


In Vino Veritas

by Nasturtian



Series: John and John's Excellent Adventures [8]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Jane Austen - Freeform, M/M, Ovid, Slow Burn, life at starecross, low-key angst, pre-courtship, taking a stab at one of my favorite tropes, the king's letters, vinculus does some relationship counseling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasturtian/pseuds/Nasturtian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the Johns went from long-distance magical stalking (Childermass) and a decade-long repressed crush (Segundus) to real friendship and - eventually - love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which He Has Reasons to Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happened between the day Lady Pole was restored and the day (described in Chapter Two of "Loose Ends") when Childermass told Segundus he loved him.
> 
> As usual for me, I'm setting this in book-verse rather than TV-verse. And though I loved Paul Kaye's portrayal of Vinculus, I can't rid myself of my book-influenced image of him as about 20 years older than Childermass and Segundus...so if I refer to him as "old" within this story, that's why.

_February 1817_

 

Childermass rode, and Vinculus walked beside him. 

"There's a crossroads up ahead," said Vinculus. He had recovered with impressive rapidity from (first) nearly being hanged and (second) being informed that he was now to stay with Childermass at all times - at least until the precious text imprinted on his gangling, grubby self had been preserved in a more convenient format.

"So there is." Childermass did not feel like talking. 

This did not dissuade Vinculus. "If we take the left-hand road, we'll come to an inn after an hour or so."

"Ah."

"Not that I'm ungrateful for this, you understand," Vinculus went on, waving the now-empty bottle of claret. "But my stomach could use a bit more lining. Surviving a hanging is hungry work!"

"I'll bet."

"Left it is, then! No good letting the King's Book waste away from hunger and weariness..."

Childermass sighed. "We are not stopping, Vinculus. We push on to Starecross."

"That stick-in-the-mud place? Does it even _have_ a pub? What's at Starecross that couldn't be got at the Bird and Baby?"

"You'll find out once we get there. If you're too tired to walk, Brewer can carry us both."

Vinculus sulked over the loss of a stop at the Eagle and Child for about half a mile past the crossroads. Then he appeared to forget all about it and deigned to scramble up behind Childermass on the stallion's broad back. "I don't normally hold with riding," he informed his self-appointed guardian, "but in the circumstances I'll make an exception."

"How gracious of you." Childermass shook the reins to get Brewer to moving again and concentrated on breathing through his mouth. Rather than dwell on the pungent presence of his passenger, who was now performing a medley of filthy comic songs, he began to argue silently with himself.

_What's at Starecross, indeed? Why return there?_

_Why not? I can't go back to Hurtfew. Even if I was inclined to shew Vinculus to Norrell and Strange - which I am not decided on in the least - I have no intention of entering the Darkness. I need somewhere to regroup. Starecross Hall is perfect - secluded, and run by a fellow magician who is far too good-natured to deny us shelter for as long as we require it._

_And that's the whole reason, is it? Purely practical?_

_What else could there be?_

_Oh, nothing at all - merely a certain good-natured fellow magician about whom you have been daydreaming for almost a third of your life._

_All right, yes, that is a bonus. But that is not the reason I want to go back. Now is not the time for...that sort of thing._

_And why not? When will the time come?_

_When I have recorded and translated Vinculus's markings. When I have been established as the new Reader of the King's Letters. When I have something to offer him other than myself._

_On the other hand, who's to say that this is not the perfect opportunity to finally get to know the man? To genuinely befriend him, instead of spying on him and making guesses about who he is and what he's truly like?_

_Who's to say he would want me to befriend him?_

_And there's the crux of the matter. You are a coward. You are afraid that if you really offer yourself, you may really be rejected. And then you will not even have false hope._

(Vinculus was singing:

"Oh, one day in May when Mary lay a-sleeping  
Along come a corporal on hands and knees a-creeping  
With his long funny dingle-dangle  
Way down to his knees...")

_Fine. I won't rule it out. But I don't even know if he is interested in men that way. The cards have not been clear._

_True, but that in itself is encouraging. As is his apparent lack of attraction to the fair sex in general._

_Maybe he's celibate. A lot of magicians see intimate relationships as unnecessary baggage. Look at Norrell._

_And maybe he's not. Stop stalling. Yes, go to Starecross Hall; yes, take advantage of its location and Segundus's generosity and begin your work on the book there; but make sure you do not give up until you know if you have a chance to win that man._

_Agreed._

***

It was dark when Childermass and Vinculus arrived at Starecross Hall. They were damp, muddy, and irritable, having found that the packhorse bridge had somehow collapsed since that morning, thus forcing them to pick their way across the wet, stony gully on foot. (Fortunately - if inexplicably - the beck had been dammed by a massive rockslide.) Even the mighty, patient Brewer looked dejected after carrying two people for so many hours. So it may be imagined that the sight of the long, low building, with many of its windows aglow with friendly yellow lamplight, was an encouraging one.

Childermass knocked on the front door. They could hear distant voices, singing, and laughter, but no one came to let them in.

"Someone's having a party," said Vinculus, rubbing his neck where the rope had galled him. "How'd it be if we went round the back and let ourselves in?"

"Not quite yet," said Childermass, and knocked again with greater emphasis. Soon they heard footsteps and the door was unbolted and opened by the person whom Segundus had introduced earlier that day as his manservant, Charles.

"Can I help you?" he said, sounding as though he doubted it.

Childermass stepped forward impatiently. "You know me, Charles. Take us to Mr Segundus. And if you would send someone out to see to my horse I'd be grateful."

Charles said: "Very well, sir. This way, please," and led them through a series of passages that, though curiously built, were now mercifully free of any dizzying glimpses into Faerie. They drew closer and closer to the sounds of merriment until they arrived at their source - the kitchen.

It was a large and comfortable room, supplied with everything one might expect in the way of burnished copper pots and pans, spotless crockery, white linen, and scrubbed deal tables. It also featured an alligator skull in a glass case, grinning down from its shelf above the fireplace.

In front of the fireplace was none other than Lady Pole, sitting in state in a rocking chair with a number of warm rugs wrapped around her shoulders and tucked across her knees. Near her sat her maid, the cook, the housekeeper, and Segundus. All five were laughing as two footmen, the gardener, and a couple of housemaids stood before them and performed a creditable rendition of a glee:

_Round, round with the glass, boys, as fast as you can,_  
_Since he who don't drink cannot be a true man._  
_For if truth is in wine, then 'tis all but a whim_  
_To think a man's true when the wine's not in him._  
_Drink, drink, then, and hold it a maxim divine_  
_That there's virtue in truth, and there's truth in good wine!_

"Bravo!" cried Lady Pole, when the song ended and the singers grinned at each other bashfully. "Well done!"

"Speaking of good wine, my lady - shall I refresh your glass?" said Segundus.

"No, thank you, sir, I think I have had enough. What is next on the programme?"

"I believe Charles was going to read an especially edifying chapter from _Tristram Shandy._ Where is he, anyway?" Segundus looked around for his manservant and spotted him standing at the other end of the kitchen, flanked by Childermass and Vinculus. "Ah, there he is - and it appears we have guests!" He left his seat and came over to them. "Go on, Charles, they're waiting for you. I'll look after these gentlemen. Welcome back, Mr Childermass - I did not expect to see you again so soon! Who is your companion?"

"I am Vinculus, late of Threadneedle-street in London," said Vinculus, tugging his forelock. "It is good to see you again, sir."

"Again? Have we met before, sir?"

"Certainly! I never forget a mark - that is to say, a face. I told you about the two magicians who would restore magic to England."

"That was you? Forgive me - I did not recognize you. It has been a long time, and - er - "

"And I look a bit rough," said Vinculus with a grin. "No need to mince words, sir. I've been on the road for years, avoiding this one - " he jerked a thumb at Childermass " - and today I've been hanged within an inch of my life. If you could see your way to sharing a bite to eat I'd be in your debt."

"Certainly, certainly," said Segundus, beckoning the cook's assistant over. "Food and drink for our guests, if you please, Dunbar." 

Vinculus was soon seated at the table, tucking in to an array of bread, cheese, pickles, and cold chicken, with a tall mug of spiced wine to wash it all down. 

"So, Mr Segundus," said Childermass, as he and his host settled themselves at the end of the table farthest from the lively gathering by the fire, "I did not realize you ran Starecross along such egalitarian lines. Is this a typical evening's entertainment?"

"Heavens, no!" said Segundus, chuckling. "It is a simple enough chain of events. After that business with Stephen Black and the fairy enchanter - "

" _What?_ "

"Oh! I forgot - you were gone when all that insanity took place."

"Not such a simple chain of events after all?"

"Indeed not. It was like this..." While Vinculus continued to engulf his dinner, and Lady Pole and the rest of the household wept with mirth over the exploits of Dr Slop and Uncle Toby, Segundus gave Childermass a summary of the strange happenings with Stephen Black and the gentleman with the thistle-down hair. 

"...she ran from the Hall and I ran after her. All was tumult and confusion. The bridge flew up into the air and came crashing down again - I was barely in time to drag Lady Pole out of harm's way - and the earth around the beck heaved up like a wave and collapsed on the enchanter. Lady Pole says he was coming to kill her, and that the fact that he has not means that he must be dead himself."

"Stephen Black slew a fairy? How is that possible? And where is he?"

"I do not know. Lady Pole called to him after the earthquake but he never reappeared. I fear he may have been killed as well." They sat in silence, pondering the fate of the butler. Then Childermass said:

"But how does all this lead to yourself and Lady Pole having a party with the staff in the kitchen?"

"Ah - well - Lady Pole was much agitated in spirit after all she had been through. For a while she expressed herself by writing letters to everyone from the editor of the _Edinburgh Review_ to the Archbishop of Canterbury, denouncing Mr Norrell's treatment of her. (She left me to notify Sir Walter of her freedom.) This kept her busy for a large part of the afternoon. Then she was seized by a reaction in the opposite direction and would speak of nothing but her fear that she would somehow be drawn back into Lost-hope (the name of the kingdom where she has been imprisoned). She was getting quite worked up. 

"I went to the kitchen to ask the cook to make some hot spiced wine, hoping it would calm her, but to my surprize I found that Lady Pole had followed me here. She declared that after so many years of sad isolation, all she wanted was to be surrounded by people. So the cook prepared enough spiced wine for everyone in the house. It started off with drinking her ladyship's health, but it evolved into a bit of a concert, and well, as you see..."

"Hmm," said Childermass, taking a pull from his own mug of wine. "Not in the mood for a quiet evening in her sitting-room, eh?"

"One has only to look at her to see how much she has missed simple human interaction," said Segundus, lowering his voice. "I do not know how I shall have the heart to tell her when it is time to retire for the night. Think of it! Sleep has been nothing but a source of horror to her for so long - so very long. She knows that she may sleep without fear now, but I doubt if that knowledge has penetrated her nerves and instincts."

"You know a great deal about what she is thinking," Childermass could not prevent himself from saying, hating the spike of jealousy that goaded him into it. 

"Not through any great feat of empathy," said Segundus. "She has talked more today that she has in the entirely of her residence here. A result of her restored ability to say all that is in her mind, I imagine. Now, sir - suppose you tell me what _you_ have been doing this day? Did you find Mr Norrell and Mr Strange? How did that dreadful wound on your face come to be healed? Where did you find this extraordinary old street magician?" He indicated Vinculus, who was laughing at _Tristram Shandy_ with his mouth full of steak-and-kidney pie.

"There's another chain of not-so-simple events," said Childermass, and told Segundus how he had found Vinculus hanged upon a hawthorn tree. "...I cut him down just in time. Or at least...I _think_ that is what happened. I cannot rid myself of the image of him lying on the ground, as dead as dead can be. But there he sits, stinking and filthy and as alive as we are."

"A great many odd things have happened today," said Segundus. "I suppose that is another one of them."

"As is this," said Childermass, touching the scar on the side of his face. 

"You did not do it yourself? I thought perhaps you used the spell for joining two articles that have been parted."

"No, I have done no magic today. I remember being cut; I _know_ that it was this morning. The blood is still on my shirt for all to see. But there is not even a trace of soreness."

"Yes, the scar is as fine and faded as one that has been there for many years," said Segundus, leaning in for a better look. Childermass made a conscious effort to stay still, wondering if the sudden elevation of his heart rate was audible. _He looks so tired,_ he thought, noting with concern the hint of transparency that lingered around Segundus's features. _He has been driving himself too hard, living with strong magic for too long..._

"Fascinating," said Segundus, sitting back. "One more mystery. Pray continue, Mr Childermass. Why have you brought Vinculus here? I am guessing it was not purely humanitarian motives on your part?"

Childermass chuckled. "Correct, sir. You say you met him once before?"

"Long ago, in London."

"Did you happen to notice the markings on his skin?"

"I did - not clearly, as he took pains to keep them covered. At first I thought it to be some sort of disease, but later I decided it had been too systematic to come from nature. Tattoos, I assumed. Some sort of charm?"

"Much stranger than that, " said Childermass, and gave him a rapid précis of the saga of Robert Findhelm's book. Segundus's eyes widened as he learned of Vinculus's true purpose - his glory and his burden, hidden for so long, and now revealed.

"The King's Book!" he whispered, looking at Vinculus incredulously. "Here?! On his person? But he should be honored beyond all other magicians! What an incredible privilege for him - and for us, to be in his presence! I cannot believe he has kept the secret this long! It is as though the Holy Grail turned up being used to serve ale in a pub!"

"He'd appreciate your choice of words," said Childermass, as Vinculus waved his mug in the air in time to the Scottish ballad a housemaid was now singing.

"What are you going to do next, sir? Are you taking him to Mr Norrell?"

"Do you know," said Childermass. "I rather think that I am not. He has dismissed me from his service, so I am under no obligation to do so."

"What is your plan, then?"

"This is where I must ask for your help. Could we impose upon your hospitality and stay here at the Hall until I have a better idea what I want to do next? I don't much fancy the idea of staying at an inn or taking a room in a lodging-house with the King's Book under my care. Also," and here he smiled, "I would appreciate having another magician about. One I can trust not to run off and try to make a quick profit from this discovery."

"You can certainly trust me, though I admit I am at a loss as to why you are willing to do so after so brief an acquaintance," said Segundus. 

Thinking that this was probably not the right moment to reveal that he had been keeping Segundus under magical surveillance for approximately a decade, Childermass mumbled something about the other man's good reputation and kind demeanor.

"Well, whatever your reasons, I am more than willing to have you both stay here. I must warn you, however, that I do not know how much longer I will be master here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Lady Pole will be leaving here as soon as Sir Walter comes for her, which should be within a week. My only charge has recovered, and while this is the best outcome anyone could have hoped for, it does leave me with the problem of my future career."

"Surely there are plenty of others who could benefit from your ministrations?" said Childermass, frowning at the thought of Segundus being uprooted yet again. "I could help you find more patients. Or perhaps you could re-open the School for Magicians. Unless I am very much mistaken, Mr Norrell is no longer in a position to dictate terms to anyone."

"Perhaps," said Segundus. "Either way I must discuss it first with Mrs Lennox, my patroness. At the moment I find myself feeling rather...bleak. No doubt I will be more sanguine after a night's rest." He got up from the table and bowed. "Enjoy the rest of your meal, Mr Childermass. Charles will show you and your companion to your rooms whenever you are ready." 

Brow furrowed, Childermass watched him rejoin Lady Pole. He did not like the defeated tone in Segundus's voice, nor the weary slump of his shoulders. _That man has suffered,_ he thought. _He has suffered, and I have contributed to it, whether I intended to or not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In Vino Veritas" is Latin for "in wine there is truth." It's also the title of a glee (an English type of song for multiple singers) written in the 1770s by Benjamin Cooke - which I also used in this chapter.
> 
> The song Vinculus sings is an actual folk song...it goes on for several more verses. Google it and you will not be disappointed.
> 
> "Tristram Shandy" is one of the weirdest, funniest books I've ever read. Not exactly an easy read, but well worth it. Also, it takes place in Yorkshire.


	2. In Which He Interferes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childermass starts work on the King's Book, but Segundus doesn't react the way he'd hoped.

When Childermass was able to pry Vinculus away from the kitchen concert (now featuring a limerick competition), Charles shewed them to their rooms. Childermass saw with relief that they were connected by a door, though it was half-blocked by a wardrobe at the moment. He knew all too well how thoroughly Vinculus could disappear when the fit took him. While he was willing to sleep in the same bed to prevent Vinculus from absconding in the middle of the night, Childermass would infinitely prefer keeping watch on him from the next room. 

"I know it's hard to believe, but he is an important person - magically speaking," Childermass explained, as Charles helped him move the wardrobe a few feet to one side so that the communicating door could be opened. "But he is unused to respectable society. I must ask your pardon in advance for the trouble he might cause."

"As to that," said Charles, straightening up, "there will be trouble sooner than you think if we let him climb into bed without having a wash first. Mrs Pleasance will have a right fit if she finds out he's been using the linens in that state."

They both looked at Vinculus, who was sprawling unconcernedly on the floor and watching them with a smirk on his face.

"I can understand that," said Childermass. "Maybe some hot water could be brought...?"

"I'll see to it. And - if you'll pardon my saying so - you'll find nightshirts the the wardrobe we just moved, if you would like to have your clothes washed and dried by morning."

"That is probably a good idea," said Childermass, looking down ruefully at his blood-encrusted shirt and muddy trousers and stockings. "Does the offer extend to Vinculus?"

"Yes indeed, though I fear some of his clothes might be beyond salvation."

"If anyone has extra trousers or a shirt that they wouldn't mind parting with, I'll pay for them."

"Very good, sir. I think the second footman is about the right size; I'll ask him if he has any available."

By the time the water was brought, Vinculus had fallen asleep. He was not pleased to be shaken awake and told to bathe. The threat of having his cherished ambition of sleeping in a soft bed thwarted was effective, however, and after a fair amount of splashing and cursing he was nightshirt-clad and snoring amid a full complement of sheets, blankets, and pillows.

Childermass washed with the unused water and donned a nightshirt of his own. _Don't know when the last time was that I wore one of these,_ he thought, feeling a bit vulnerable. 

Then he went around both rooms, putting ward-and-watch spells on the doors opening onto the hallway, the windows, and (after a short internal debate) the chimneys as well. _Vinculus seems glad enough to stick with me for now, but I'll not risk losing the Book if he suddenly has a fancy to step out for a breath of fresh air._

Making sure to leave the door between the rooms wide open, he got into his own bed. Someone had run a warming pan between the sheets, and he let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure. For a while he abandoned himself to the sensation of being clean, full, dry, warm, and safe. Then the events of the past two days began to parade past his mind's eye. Waiting for Strange to arrive at Hurtfew. The struggle with Lascelles. Being dismissed by Norrell. Lady Pole's restoration. Finding Vinculus ( _dead or alive?_ ). The King's Book. The _new_ King's Book. The kitchen at Starecross. Laughter and spiced wine. Segundus's face, creased with tiredness, unspeakably beautiful. It all piled higher and higher until his mind sagged under the weight of it.

 _My head's going like a mill-race,_ he thought. _Come on, man. Let it all go. Put it away till morning._ He concentrated on slowing his breathing and turned his attention inward.

_His fear of losing the Book, his fear of being unable to translate it, his fear of what it could mean if he succeeded...he smoothed them all flat, folded them up like laundry and set them carefully in a big sea-chest, black with age and bound with iron._

_Norrell's dismissal of him - not unexpected, not even unwelcome, but the feeling of betrayal stung him nonetheless. He gathered up the poisonous smoke of his anger, poured it into a bottle, stoppered it, and lay it on top of his fears._

_His feelings about being under the same roof as John Segundus manifested themselves in his overwrought imagination as a small, bright-feathered bird. He captured it swiftly but hesitated before placing it in the chest. It might suffocate, trapped in there with his fears and anger. In the end he kept the bird cupped loosely in his hands, marveling at the delicacy of its bones, the softness of its feathers, the frantic pace of its heart as it sat, ready to dart skyward if he tried to grasp it..._

Sleep took him as he lay with his hands curled against his breast.

***

He was awakened the next morning by the entrance of Andrew, one of the footmen, bearing a tray of tea, toast, marmalade, and hard-boiled eggs (as Childrmass and Vinculus had inadvertently slept through breakfast). He also brought their clothes, clean and dry and (in Vinculus's case) replaced by entirely different clothes in much better condition. 

Vinculus refused to open his eyes, insisting that the events of the previous day were all a dream, and that he wanted the illusion to continue as long as possible. Finally Childermass and Andrew pulled him bodily from the bed, set him before the fire, and put a cup of tea in his hand, which convinced him that it was real after all. He was delighted, and ordered kippers and beer.

When they had eaten and dressed they were visited by Mrs Pleasance, the housekeeper, who came to pass on a message from the master of the house: the Green Room on the first floor was at Childermass's disposal if he wished to begin work on the translation immediately.

"He also warned me that I should make certain to knock before entering, and that the housemaids should be kept away at all times," she added, "though he did not say why."

"Ah, yes," said Childermass, grateful for Segundus's discretion. Not that the staff would care too much about the King's Book, but it was best to be careful. "I have - er - been given the task of recording the magical writing upon this man's skin."

"Is that so?" Mrs Pleasance looked askance at Vinculus, who smiled broadly and waved a piece of marmalade-smeared toast at her in a friendly way. Childermass just _knew_ he was going to say something like "I'll be happy to give you a private viewing," so before Vinculus had the chance, he said:

"It is. The writing covers nearly all of him. So in order to spare the members of the household the sight of anything they might regret seeing, it would be best to do as Mr Segundus said."

She sniffed. "I would have done it anyway, of course. But it does help to know the reason behind it."

"Speaking of Mr Segundus - is he busy this morning? I thought he might want to join me. It is a fascinating problem and I would welcome his opinion." _Not bad,_ he congratulated himself. _Polite, not too eager..._ His visions of beginning the great work with Segundus at his side vaporized when Mrs Pleasance said:

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I don't know if he'll have time today - he's been with Lady Pole since she woke up. It will take the poor dear a while to get her head back on straight, and no wonder."

Pushing his disappointment aside, Childermass brought Vinculus to the Green Room and started on his own. When he had prepared his writing materials, sat down, and stared at Vinculus's wiry, blue-scrawled arm, the magnitude of the task combined with his total ignorance almost overwhelmed him. He found himself thankful that there was no one to witness his perplexity - especially John Segundus.

"How's it going, then?" said Vinculus. "Translated anything yet?"

"Of course not, you twit. I've only been at it for five minutes," said Childermass, shaking off his dejection. Since he knew nothing, he decided to start with the very basics, and began copying down every single letter, hoping to gain some idea of how many symbols he would be working with.

By the time the lunch gong sounded, he had recorded fifty-eight different symbols from Vinculus's right forearm. He thought he might have the chance to talk to Segundus in the dining room, but it was not to be. Although their host greeted Childermass and Vinculus cordially when they entered, his attention was largely given to eating his pigeon-pie as quickly as decorum allowed. 

"Forgive me for rushing," he apologized, after washing down the last bite with a small glass of elderberry wine. "Lady Pole did not feel like joining us, and she is waiting for me to escort her on a walk around the property."

"Really?" said Childermass, with a glance out the window at the brown-and-grey world outside. "I should have thought it too cold and damp for that."

"So should I, frankly," said Segundus, getting up and brushing crumbs from his lap, "but her ladyship is possessed with a horror of idleness and of solitude, and I consider it only right that I do everything in my power to make her final days here as pleasant for her as possible. Also, if I do not go her maid will be obliged to do so, and Pampisford is not as young as she used to be. I hope your work has gone well this morning? Was the Green Room arranged to your liking?"

"There are comfortable chairs, tables to write on, and a good fire - I want for nothing," said Childermass, which made his internal commentator laugh and call him a liar. 

"Then I shall see you gentlemen at dinner," said Segundus with a bow, and left.

"How about that, eh?" said Vinculus, helping himself to the cold meat platter. "We're gentlemen now, Childermass. Pass the wine, your lordship."

"Don't overdo it," said Childermass, handing it over.

"As if I would," said Vinculus, and took a swig directly from the carafe. "Ahhh. Not bad for a home brew! I've got to hand it to you - I thought you were mad, coming here, but this is grand. Bed, fires, new clothes, all you can eat and drink - and no questions asked! I could pick this place clean with my eyes shut!" 

Childermass turned his best threatening glare on him. "Don't even think about it."

"What are you going to do? Return me to the author with an angry letter?" 

"I'll see to it that not a drop more wine passes your lips until I'm done with you."

"Now that is cruel!"

"And planning to rob your host isn't?"

"I wasn't planning to do any such thing. I was observing, that's all."

"Keep your observations - and your hands - to yourself."

***

That was the pattern for the next few days. Childermass would copy symbols from Vinculus all morning. After lunch Childermass would release Vinculus for the rest of the day (with strict instructions to remain on the grounds and not make a nuisance of himself), leaving Childermass free to pore over his notes. Segundus and Lady Pole would join them at lunch, but other than that the two sets of guardians and the people in their care saw little of each other. 

As Segundus had said, Lady Pole did not want to be inactive or alone. Her options for society at the Hall were limited, so inevitably she turned to Segundus. From what Childermass could see, he stepped up to the challenge without hesitation or reserve. He accompanied her on walks, despite the chilly air and muddy ground. He posted her letters (there were many). He told her as much as he could about the political and cultural events that she had essentially slept through. He listened to her tirades against Mr Norrell and her plans to disgrace and ruin him.

And then, when she had worn herself out but dared not sleep for fear of waking up in Faerie, he would read to her - as Childermass learned when he passed by Lady Pole's sitting room on his third evening at Starecross. 

He did not have any particular reason to be going that way - barring an unquenchable desire to find out what was keeping Segundus so busy that he did not have a minute to spare for the most important magical discovery in centuries. One glance through the open door shewed him that Lady Pole was curled up on the window seat, while Segundus and Pampisford (who was doing needlework of some kind) sat on either side of the fire. 

Unfortunately for Childermass's dignity, Segundus chanced to look up just as he went by. 

"Mr Childermass!" he called. "Might I have a word?"

"Of course," said Childermass. _D--n._

Segundus excused himself to the ladies and came out into the hall, drawing the door shut behind him. "I need your advice about something," he said, fidgeting with the book in his hands.

"Yes?" said Childermass, reading the title upside down. ( _Pride and Prejudice, by Miss Jane Austen. Volume Three. Hmm..._ )

"Lady Pole is very worried about her fellow sufferers - Mrs Strange and Stephen Black. She has asked me to locate them - "

"With the four-quarters spell?"

"That is what I tried. It did work (rather to my astonishment - I have never succeeded before - it must be due to the recent upsurge of magic), but..." He scratched the back of his head, disordering his hair. Childermass suppressed a whimper. "Mrs Strange is clearly in Venice. I have even seen visions of her in the basin - she is with a family, and they seem to be looking after her quite well. But Stephen Black is in Faerie."

Childermass whistled softly. "Is he now? That's...odd. I wonder..."

"What?"

"You say he defeated the enchanter? Perhaps he has chosen to stay in Other Lands. No doubt he would be hailed as a powerful conquerer."

"If he was free, why wouldn't he come back to the Poles?"

"Because he was free."

Segundus and Childermass held each other's gaze for a moment. Segundus looked away first. 

"Ah," he said. "I see. Yes. That is one explanation, to be sure. Certainly it is the best one out of the several scenarios that I can think of. In any case - my problem is that I am not sure what to tell Lady Pole. I fear that she would be sorely grieved to hear that he chose to leave his old life behind - including her."

Childermass nodded, considering. "Your best course is probably to say that you cannot find him, then."

"But she might think that he is dead!"

"A fate she considers preferable to being held captive by a fairy, I imagine."

"True." Segundus sighed. "That is what I thought as well. I wanted a second opinion, though. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Childermass walked on, slowly enough to be able to hear Segundus saying, "I apologize for the interruption, Lady Pole."

"Not at all, Mr Segundus," came Lady Pole's voice.

"Shall we continue, then?"

"By all means, sir. I would like to hear the end before I leave tomorrow."

 _Not a moment too soon,_ thought Childermass, as Segundus began reading again, and then reprimanded himself for being petty and possessive. _Stop being so soppy and get back to work._

***

Sir Walter Pole arrived late the next morning, somewhat disheveled from two days of travel and full of gratitude and amazement about his wife's recovery. She greeted him coolly and directed all his questions and praise to Segundus and Childermass.

They took some refreshment together in the library and then went on a tour of the house (which Sir Walter had never visited before). The tour was enlivened when they came across Vinculus, wearing one of the red robes that had been stored in one of the many unused rooms, pacing solemnly though the halls with an expression of profound thought. Childermass had hustled him out of sight as soon as possible, breathing threats and murder.

Now they stood in the entrance hall, waiting while the footmen stowed Lady Pole's belongings on the back of the coach. "When I got your letter, Mr Segundus, I hardly dared believe it was true," said Sir Walter. "All the way here I was warning myself against letting my hopes get too high - yet here she is!" He beamed at Lady Pole, who smiled back with a serenity that Childermass thought highly suspect.

When all was ready for their departure, Sir Walter shook hands with Segundus and Childermass one more time and helped his wife into the coach. When they were both inside Lady Pole leaned out the window and said: "Sirs - I owe you both more than I can ever repay. If you ever need any thing - any thing at all - do not hesitate to ask."

"Can we have that in writing?" said Childermass under his breath, while Segundus bowed and thanked her. Lady Pole withdrew into the coach, where they heard her say:

"I must tell you, Sir Walter, that I have no intention of living in Harley-street for long. That house is full of nothing but bad memories for me. I will be going to Venice to find my friend, Mrs Strange, and then I will return to my family estate in Great Hitherden."

The last glimpse they had of the Poles as the coach rolled away was of Sir Walter looking at his wife with his well-known look of total surprize - genuine, for once.

***

After Lady Pole left, Segundus seemed to lose all his motivating power, like a spring that had snapped after being wound too tightly. He shewed no interest in the translation of the Book, or in writing Mrs Lennox to discuss the future of Starecross Hall, or indeed in any thing at all. He sat by the fire in the library for the rest of that day, stayed there all night, and remained there though the next day as well. He replied to questions politely but briefly and rejected food with "Perhaps later."

"What ails him, do you think?" Childermass asked Mrs Pleasance, stopping her as she came back from another failed attempt at getting her master to eat.

"Blest if I know, Mr Childermass," she replied, shifting her grip on the tea-tray. "I'd say he's caught what her ladyship had - but that's not possible, is it?"

"No. It was an enchantment, not the measles. Anyway, the enchantment has been broken and the one who cast it was destroyed. There's nothing magical going on - I'd feel it if there was."

"Do you know, I believe he's just plain exhausted," said Mrs Pleasance. "I've watched the life drain out of him for the past twelvemonth. Well, you saw him, didn't you? A week ago he couldn't move through the halls without holding onto Charles's elbow. But that didn't stop him from tending her ladyship night and day - reading to her, listening to her daft tales...that's Mr Segundus all over. Give him a responsibility and he'll half kill himself rather than shirk it. I was his landlady when he lived in York, you know. Never late with the rent, no matter what it might cost him in the matter of his own clothes or food."

Childermass nodded thoughtfully. "Aye. He is like that."

"How long have you known Mr Segundus?" asked Mrs Pleasance, tilting her head inquiringly.

"Not as long as you," hedged Childermass.

"He's never spoken of you, is all. Not that that means any thing. He's not one to talk about himself. He's never even mentioned his family. The Honeyfoots are the closest thing to kin that he's got, bless them. And me, of course."

"What would you advise, ma'am?"

"He needs rest and food, but I can't get him to eat, and from the look of his face he hasn't slept in a while. You're a magician, too, sir, are you not? You helped him cure our Lady Pole. Isn't there something you could do for him?"

"Perhaps. But it would only deal with the effect and not the cause," said Childermass, thinking of Pale's Restoration of Flown Tranquility. Then he asked the question to which he had been dreading the answer for some time: "This malaise did not come over him until Lady Pole left. Was there any...attachment... between them?"

"Heavens, no!" said Mrs Pleasance, deeply shocked. "She was fond of him, and for good reason, and he was devoted to her, but as to any thing improper - I thought you knew him, sir!"

"I meant no offense," said Childermass, holding up his hands to deflect her motherly wrath and trying not to look as relieved as he felt. "I am only trying to find out what's behind all this. The day I arrived with Vinculus - "

"Such charming company you keep," said Mrs Pleasance.

" - yes, I know, it's unavoidable. But that night Mr Segundus mentioned his anxiety about the future. I would not be surprized if it is this that weighs on him so. If he was in better health I have no doubt he would rally, as he has always done before, and look about him for the next opportunity, but as it is..."

"You may have hit it, sir. Now - what are you going to do about it?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You're his friend, you're a magician, and you seem to have enough nerve for just about any thing. Help him!"

Childermass stared at the housekeeper, never having been at the receiving end of one of her oddly accurate character assessments before. Then he smiled. "Whatever you say, ma'am."

"What are you going to do, then?"

"For starters, I'm going to find Vinculus."

"Oh, _him_. Last I knew, he was in the kitchen, telling fortunes. Come on, sir, the faster you get him out of there the better I'll be pleased."

Vinculus was indeed at one of the kitchen tables, peering at the second housemaid's palm while the cook and her assistant pretended not to listen.

"...and I see a tall, dark stranger..." Vinculus said in sepulchral tones, as Childermass followed Mrs Pleasance into the room. "Oh look, there he is now!"

The housemaid squeaked and pulled her hand away.

"None of that, you old fraud," said Childermass, with a cuff on the shoulder for Vinculus and wink for the furiously blushing maid. "Come on. We've got work to do."

"What? I thought we were done for the day!"

"Not quite yet. Don't worry, all you have to do is sit there, same as always."

"There can be too much of a good thing," grumbled Vinculus. "All right, don't glower, just let me bring a little something to sustain me..." He grabbed the half-empty wine bottle that had been fueling his prognostication and accompanied Childermass back out of the kitchen. "Where to?"

"Library, but I need to stop by room and get my notes first."

They made it to the library after only two wrong turns (Vinculus was especially amused by the room containing the dollhouse). Segundus was sitting exactly as he had been the last time Childermass had looked in on him. He acknowledged their presence with a nod, then went back to contemplating the fire.

"I hope you don't mind if I work in here for a while, sir?" said Childermass. "This room has the best light, with all these high windows."

"Not at all," said Segundus, not troubling to turn his head.

Childermass pointed Vinculus to a chair, pulled up another beside him, and set out his notes, pen, ink, and fresh paper on a small table between them.

"Which bit do you want, then? If you want me to strip off, I'd like to move closer to the fire," said Vinculus, waggling his eyebrows.

"We'll pick up where we left off before lunch," said Childermass imperturbably.

"Oh, well, if you want to be _methodical_ about it," said Vinculus, and rolled up his right sleeve as far as possible.

Childermass worked in silence for some time, copying down the symbols with great care. Vinculus sang snatches of songs _sotto voce_ , finished the wine, and dozed off. 

Presently Segundus spoke.

"What is it that you do, Mr Childermass?"

"I am creating a comprehensive list of every character, and taking note of the frequency with which they appear."

"I see." Segundus was quiet for a while longer before adding: "Do they correspond roughly to our own alphabet?"

"I don't think so - John Uskglass created his system of writing before he learned to read and write in Latin or English. I have found over a hundred symbols so far."

"So the symbols might represent sounds, or even whole words?"

"Aye. Or ideas, or phrases. But I've got to start somewhere, and this seems a logical way to begin."

"I think there is a book on codes and cryptology somewhere in here," said Segundus, looking around at the book-lined walls. "I don't know if it would be of any use, but..."

"Can't hurt," said Childermass.

"My thoughts precisely," said Segundus. He got up, stretched gingerly, and began making a search of the shelves. He soon got distracted by what Childermass was doing, however, and came to stand behind his chair, looking down at what he had transcribed. "It is quite lovely to look at."

By dint of a superhuman effort, Childermass did not say what immediately leapt into his head ( _So are you_ ) and came out with: "Yes." He scratched down another shape. "Would you care to join me? Another set of eyes would be helpful."

"Well - if you don't think I would get in the way - "

"Not a bit. You can start on his other arm." Childermass nudged Vinculus. "Oi! Roll up the other sleeve, would you?"

Vinculus grunted sleepily, complied, and carried on with his nap.

Mrs Pleasance came in an hour later and left a tray of tea and food on the table. Childermass watched Segundus absentmindedly consuming a sandwich (while squinting at a particularly complicated sigil on Vinculus's elbow) and wanted to stand up and cheer.

***

Segundus attended dinner, and though he did not eat much (seeming to sink some way back into his personal Slough of Despond as soon as he stopt working on the translation), he did eat. Mrs Pleasance bestowed a good many approving looks on Childermass. He smiled when he caught her eye, but did not feel that he deserved her approbation quite yet. The cure was begun, but there was more that needed doing. 

After dinner he set about doing it.

 _This is going to take some definite overstepping of boundaries,_ he thought, heading for his room. _Only a man with no compunction about minding other people's business for them would ever be so interfering._

_Good thing I've already had so much practice._

And he sat down to write some letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Childermass in a nightshirt is just hilarious to me.


	3. In Which He Pursues A Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters are posted, Vinculus takes a turn for the prophetic, and Childermass goes to unplanned lengths to cheer Segundus up. Also featured: the joys of corvid ownership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lord this chapter put up SUCH A FIGHT. But I wrestled it into submission eventually. Here's hoping it's intelligible.

_First things first,_ thought Childermass, sitting down at his room's dressing table - which, being entirely free of the usual accouterments of a well-dressed gentleman, was perfectly suited as a desk. He took out the Cards of Marseilles and dealt.

_Good. She will be amenable._

He shuffled and dealt again.

_Still here, but unreachable...interesting. Better take a closer look later._

A third time.

_In England, but preparing to travel. I'd best get a move on, then._

He put the cards away in their usual pocket. Then he produced the paper, pen, and ink he had brought along from the session in the library and began to write.

Half an hour later, he was sealing the final envelope when the door to Vinculus's room banged open and the man himself came in, singing:

 _How many kinds of sweet flowers grow_  
_In an English country garden?_  
_We'll tell you now of some that we know_  
_Those we miss you'll surely pardon_  
_Daffodils, heart's ease and flox_  
_Meadowsweet and lady smocks..._

"Childermass!" he called, interrupting his own song. "Are you in here?"

"Yes," said Childermass, standing up and shoving the letters into his coat as Vinculus swept through the connecting door. 

"I've been talking to Harry, the gardener. I tell you, hearing him go on about green shoots pushing up through the decay of the old year is almost enough to make me want to change careers!"

"Assuming you had a career to change - which you don't - you don't expect me to believe you'd make much of a gardener, do you?"

"Fie, sir!" said Vinculus, capering about like an animated scarecrow. "I hail from these parts, back in the days of my innocent youth. I belong to the fine tradition of the soil!"

"Whatever you say," said Childermass, thinking that no matter what was behind this urge for bucolic bliss, it might be good to have something to keep Vinculus usefully occupied when he wasn't being read. _If Harry can endure his company for any length of time, that is._

He started for the door, intending to give the letters to Charles so that they could be posted first thing the next day. Vinculus, still dancing, changed trajectory and bumped into him, then ricocheted off again with an unconvincing apology. Childermass stopt, made a noise of disgust, and turned around in time to see Vinculus nonchalantly looking over the letters.

"Let's see here," he said. "Mrs Lennox - don't know her. Mr Robinson - don't know him either. Lady Pole - isn't she the bird who just left?"

"I'll take those back now, thank you very much," said Childermass, wrenching the letters out of Vinculus's grasp with one hand and whacking him on the head with the other.

"Come off it! No harm done - I was only wondering what you'd been up to in here all this time," said Vinculus. "What _are_ you up to, anyway?"

"That's for me to know."

"And for me to find out?"

"I didn't say that."

***

For his own peace of mind, Childermass kept the letters on his person until he was able to post them himself the following day. Once they were safely on their way, there was nothing more he could do but wait for events to unfold. He shifted his attention to keeping Segundus out of the doldrums.

This was not as difficult as he had feared. Segundus seemed buoyed up by having such a unique and important magical puzzle as the King's Book on which to work. He was not quite back to his normal levels of health and optimism, but food, sleep, and purposefulness were having their effect. His face had already regained some color, and his greying hair (though still inclined to be untidy) no longer moved in breezes blowing from another world.

Segundus spent the first half of the morning scouring the shelves for the book about codes and ciphers, while Childermass (maintaining the fiction that it was the quality of the light that prompted him to work in the library rather than the Green Room) cross-checked the symbols he had already recorded with the ones on Vinculus's back.

"Aha!" Segundus exclaimed at last, pulling out a venerable tome whose cracked leather binding looked ready to fall off. "I knew I'd seen this in here before."

"What is it?" asked Childermass.

"A Latin translation of Yusuf al-Kindi's _A Manuscript on Deciphering Cryptographic Messages_ ," said Segundus, carefully setting the book down on a reading desk and opening it to the first page.

Childermass left him to it, not much caring whether or not he found any thing useful within its pages, but satisfied with the effect the search was having on Segundus's spirits. His own were sinking lower the longer he worked on this ever-more-insurmountable project, but he did not to share his frustration.

The matter was brought up regardless of his wishes about half an hour later.  Segundus, looking up from his perusal of the ancient manuscript, said: "It occurs to me that unless we know what language the Book is written in, any efforts at frequency analysis will be bootless. Is it the language of Faerie? Do they have multiple dialects?"

"That is a very good question," said Childermass, his worries suddenly boiling over in a froth of bitterness. "To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm getting the number and type of symbols sorted because that's the only thing I can think of. I keep hoping for some sort of clue or key, but..." He waved his hand in gesture that encompassed Vinculus (sitting backwards on a chair with his shirt hitched up to reveal his back) and his ever-growing pile of notes. "At the moment it seems so far beyond my abilities that it's ludicrous. Maybe I was meant to bring the Book to safety, but not to read it. Maybe _you_ are the Reader, John Segundus - you would be far more suitable than a recently sacked servant with delusions of grandeur," he added, with his twisted half-smile.

"Wait a moment," said Segundus, alarmed at this reaction. "Has it not been made clear that the Raven King is taking a far more proactive role in these events than we could ever have dreamed? Did not the Book come to you? I believe that this task was meant for you and no other, sir."

As is so often the way of things, Segundus's encouragement merely hastened Childermass's plunge into self-doubt. "While I appreciate your confidence in me, I cannot help but think it is misplaced," he said. "Were I truly the Reader, surely I would have some idea as to how to proceed? As it is, I have nothing to go on - _nothing_."

"That's because you're not listening," said Vinculus.

Childermass and Segundus, having forgotten that he was even there, looked at him in consternation. "What do you mean by that?" said Childermass. "I thought you said it was not the Book's job to read itself - that you had no idea what was written upon your skin until someone else read it to you."

"That I did," said Vinculus agreeably, pulling his shirt back down and turning the right way around. "But I have been his Book all my life, and I have learned a thing or two."

Childermass grabbed him by the collar, leaned in close, and said through gritted teeth: " _What - do -you - know?_ "

Vinculus met his furious stare without flinching. "I know many things, John Childermass, child of ill-omen. I know what it is to live in the heart of the hive. I know what it is to live on the skin of the earth with nothing for a roof but the sky. But most of all - and this is something you have never learned - I know how to listen to my King."

The old street magician's whole aspect had changed. He had shed his canny, humorous, vulgar self like an unwanted coat. This was no ragged mountebank sitting before them - he was a prophet, a mystic, a druid, with deep, hooded eyes full of secrets.

"You have forgotten, but I can see it - John Uskglass touched you. Eyes and heart and lips and hand - you will see, and understand, and speak, and write. He means his Book to be read, and read it shall be."

"But how?" said Childermass. He had not released Vinculus's collar, but the anger had gone from him. " _How?_ "

"Ask the King for help and he will give it. Quiet your mind as you look upon the words. When you are ready to hear, the meaning will come to you."

"Oh, thanks, that's a great help," said Childermass, letting Vinculus go and running his hands through his hair in irritation.

"And so you have something to keep you occupied while you train your mind's ear," said Vinculus, with an abrupt return to his usual self, "here's an interesting thing: my title hasn't changed."

"What title?"

" _The Book of the Raven King,_ " said Vinculus, tapping his clavicle. "Same as the last edition."

"How do you know that?" said Childermass, astounded.

"The Reader shewed it to me, that night when he read me. Got out a pocket mirror so I could see it and all. It's the one line of writing that hasn't altered, so I suppose it must say the same thing."

"Why in heaven's name didn't you tell us before?" said Segundus.

"Ah, you lads were having such a grand time on your own, it seemed a shame to bother you - and I didn't notice it till this morning when I was getting dressed. I don't spend a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror, you know."

Childermass and Segundus converged on him, knocking their heads together in their haste to get a look at the line he had indicated.

"Ouch! I beg your pardon!"

"My fault entirely. Is this it here, Vinculus?"

"I think so," said Vinculus, twisting in an unsuccessful effort to see his own collarbone. "It starts with a little star and stops with that squiggly bird thing."

"So the bird symbol means 'Raven King'?" said Segundus, wide-eyed.

"Yes," said Childermass instantly.

"Are you sure?"

Childermass paused. "Do you know, I am," he said. "I couldn't explain why, but - I am."

"And if this one is 'Book' - does this swirly bit indicate the genitive case?"

"Pardon me, gents," said Vinculus. "As much as I value this time of close fellowship, would you mind copying it off me so you can breathe all over that instead of my poor hide?"

There was a scramble for pens and ink, and then the library was silent except for scratch of nibs against paper. Eventually Segundus lifted his head to ask Childermass a question, but stopt with his mouth open, looking puzzled.

"What is it, sir?" said Childermass.

"Oh - nothing - I hadn't realized you were left-handed, that's all."

"I'm not," said Childermass, perplexed. "I was inclined to it as a child, but that was beaten out of me." He looked down at his notes and was nonplussed to see that he held his quill in his left hand, with which he had been copying out Vinculus's title with complete ease and fluidity. "Er - "

"Don't look at me," said Vinculus, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on top of his head with an air of complacency. "I've said my piece."

Suddenly it was all too much. Childermass got up, muttered something about a headach, and fled.

 _Out. I need to get out,_ he thought, and blundered through corridors until he found a side door into the garden. The day felt more like late winter than early spring, and he had not stopt to collect his coat, but he welcomed the bite of the cold. _What is **happening** to me? I knew what that bird-shape meant. I didn't even have to think about it. And now I am left-handed? Was Vinculus pulling another of his tricks when he went all visionary, or was that genuine?_

He strode along the garden paths, kicking at broken branches and drifts of dead leaves, not seeing any of it, only wanting to walk and breathe great draughts of clean air. Perhaps if he walked fast enough and long enough the feeling of something looming over him - huge and heavy and capable of crushing him if he moved wrong, spoke wrong, thought wrong - would dissipate.

Whether it was because of the walking or for some other reason, by the time he had made his fifth circuit around the building, he felt calmer. He sat down on a stone bench under a tangle of thorny, leafless brambles and took out his cards, taking comfort in the deck's familiar shape and weight.

 _Learn to listen to my King, he said. Ask for his help._ He looked up into the sky - overcast with a thin layer of clouds, made luminous by the midday sun - and said quietly: "If you are listening, sire, I could use your assistance. Segundus thinks I can do it. Vinculus says you chose me. I thought I was meant for this, but now that it seems like I really might be, I'm terrified." He closed his eyes, shutting out everything around him and trying to _listen_.

 _I must look like an idiot,_ part of his mind said, but he hushed it and remained as he was. He could smell wet earth and stone, and hear the movement of small creatures going about their lives in the underbrush behind him, but no voice in his head telling him what to do. Not sure if he was disappointed or relieved, he continued to sit with his eyes shut, letting his thoughts wander as he waited.

There was a fluttering noise, followed by the sound of claws on stone. His eyes opened and he let out an involuntary oath, leaping to his feet - a raven had landed on the other end of the bench and was regarding him with bright avian interest.

Childermass had never seen a raven up close before. It was far larger than he would have expected, its head level with his waist as it strutted along the seat towards him. He backed slowly away, unsure whether this was an eldritch messenger from the Other World or simply a bloody huge bird. Before he could make up his mind, the creature made a jab at him with its murderous-looking beak, snapped open its wings ( _Good G--, they must be four feet across!_ ) and flew away. Watching it go, he wondered what the white thing in its beak was, then belatedly realized that it had taken his cards with it.

 _Second time I've been pickpocketed in as many days - I'm slipping,_ he thought, breaking into a run.

Fortunately, the raven did not fly far, but alighted near the top of a tall ( _of course_ ) oak tree at the other end of the garden. _If I can get the d----d thing to caw, maybe it'll drop them,_ thought Childermass, staring up at the larcenous animal. He considered his options. If he started throwing rocks, the raven might simply fly away, never to be seen again...dare he risk it?

 _You know them by heart. You could always make a new set,_ pointed out his reasonable self. _That deck is old and falling to bits. Why make a fuss?_

 _Because they are **my** blasted cards and I want them back,_ said his unreasonable self, much more loudly. _I'll not have them end up as nesting material for a bird, even if it is a raven._ He tried to think of a spell that might help him, but nothing in his reading had prepared him for this particular situation. Finally he said "D--- it," jumped to grab hold of the nearest branch, and started scrambling up the tree.

"You stay right where you are," he said to the raven as he gained the next branch, skinning his palms on the rough bark. "Those are my cards, you overgrown crow - "

The raven didn't move, watching his anything-but-graceful progress with an impassive jet bead of an eye. Then it opened its beak of its own accord, letting the entire deck go tumbling and floating to the ground like rectangular leaves.

"Oh, thank you so much, that's lovely," snarled Childermass, watching them go. "So kind of you to wait till I'm up here to do that. If I ever catch you, I'm going to break your neck."

The raven ruffled its feathers and tilted its head as if to say it very much doubted Childermass's ability to make good on his threat.

Then it said "John" in Segundus's voice.

Childermass recoiled, put his weight on the wrong branch, and - _snap._

He had just enough time to see the raven flap ponderously away before he slithered to the ground, cracked his head against something hard, and succumbed to the darkness.

***

When he opened his eyes, he was in his room, lying flat on his back in bed. The curtains were drawn and there was a cool, damp cloth placed across his forehead. Trying to look around without moving his head (which hurt abominably), he was just able to make out a figure sitting by the fire, reading. _John Segundus,_ he thought, recognizing the man's irrepressible hair even in silhouette. Under any other circumstances, it would have been thrilling to find himself alone in his bedroom with Segundus, but as it was...he raised one hand to test the back of his skull. His fingers touched a large bump and he hissed a little at the pain.

"Oh! Thank goodness, you're awake," said Segundus, carefully marking his place before closing the book. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," said Childermass, giving the bump another light prod and flinching. "What happened?"

"I am afraid I have no idea. Harry, the gardener, found you unconscious at the base of a tree, surrounded by these." Segundus held up the Cards of Marseilles, a bit more muddy and tattered than they used to be, but largely intact. "Do you have any memory of what brought you there?"

"I...am not sure," said Childermass. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was climbing a tree to get those cards back from a raven? And that when it called me by my name I was so startled that I fell?"

Segundus paled. "I am _so_ sorry, Mr Childermass. I really must apologize."

"For what?" said Childermass, baffled.

"I fear you've had a bad first encounter with Merlin."

"...Ambrosius?" said Childermass, feeling that this would not be entirely unexpected after the day he'd been having.

"He might be, for all I know," said Segundus. "Merlin is my raven. For a certain value of 'my,' you understand."

"Your raven! I'd - er - " Childermass broke off before saying "I'd forgotten," not ready to admit that his - _interest? obsession?_ \- in Segundus meant that he had learned of Merlin's existence years ago, via silver basin. He changed it to: "I'd not realized that they could be tamed."

"They can - more or less - with perseverance," said Segundus. "But there's no way to train the mischief out of them. Did he take your cards?"

"Yes - grabbed them right out of my hand and flew off. I was hoping to scare him into dropping them, which is why I was up the tree, but then he let them go on his own - "

"Oh dear. He does love to make people angry."

"He certainly achieved that goal. And then he - said my name."

"Your name?"

"Well, he said 'John.' But not in a bird voice - he sounded like - you."

"He is an accomplished mimic. He knows about a dozen words and phrases in English, a few in Latin, the songs of other birds, and an array of irritatingly accurate household noises - creaking hinges and the like."

"But how did he know my name?"

"He doesn't - he knows _my_ name."

"Ah. I see." He wanted to pursue this line of questioning, mainly because Segundus was starting to go pink in a particularly appealing way, but his head was really splitting and he simply did not have the energy. "Forgive me - I'm not at my best and brightest right now."

"I should think not," said Segundus. "Now that you're conscious, do you mind checking yourself for injuries? I did not see any blood - barring a few scratches on your hands - but it would be as well to be sure."

"No broken bones," said Childermass, after carefully flexing his limbs and rolling his head and shoulders to and fro. "Not even a sprain, as far as I can tell. I wasn't more than eight feet up when I fell."

"Excellent. What about your head? There was quite a bump - I believe you struck it on a root."

"It's not too bad if I stay still. When I move it starts pounding."

"With your permission, I'd like to take a look at your eyes," said Segundus. "Sometimes these head injuries are worse than they initially appear. Can you bear it if I open the curtains?"

"Go ahead," said Childermass, preemptively squinting.

Segundus pulled the draperies aside, filling the room with cloud-diffused light. Then he went to the bed and bent close to Childermass's face, examining him with clinical concern. "Can you follow this without turning your head?" he said, holding up a finger. Childermass did so, wondering if he should laugh or cry at the irony of the situation. It was hilariously similar to some of the private fantasies that had kept him company for many long years - although he was usually the one leaning over Segundus, gazing into his eyes before tasting that thin-lipped mouth, pinning him to the mattress, and -

"Hm - your pupils are very dilated, but they are the same size, which is good. And they are tracking all right," said Segundus. "I am quite relieved - I would hate to think the Reader of the King's Book was permanently damaged thanks to my badly-behaved raven!"

Childermass emerged from the recesses of his imagination with an unpleasant jolt. _Of course. The Book. He is only concerned because I might be able to read it. I appear to be doomed to wake up in sick rooms with magicians who only care about me in relation to their own purposes. At least this one is not peppering me with accusatory questions._ He decided to make the best of it and keep the conversation going. "It might be a trifle premature to assign me that title, sir. After all, I have yet to do any actual _reading_. We only have Vinculus's word for it that I am any thing more than a person who happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"Don't start that again," said Segundus. "What is wrong with Vinculus's word? He has been right before - at any rate when he is speaking of the Raven King, and not communing with the Spirit of the Thames."

Childremass snorted. "He told you about that, did he?"

"Yes. He's an interesting conversationalist, to put it mildly."

Childermass tried to sit up. His body retaliated with a surge of nausea, and he flopped down again, cursing.

"Be still!" said Segundus reproachfully. "You may not have broken any thing, but you should have complete rest until tomorrow morning at the least."

"But I am not tired," complained Childermass. "What time is it?"

"Almost four o' clock in the afternoon," said Segundus, consulting his pocket-watch.

"See? I cannot be expected to just lie here for the next fifteen hours. May I at least have something to read?"

"I could not recommend it. It would strain your eyes. Really, Mr Childermass, can you not simply relax for a while?"

"I don't have the knack," said Childermass, aware that he was being petulant and not caring. Then he had an inspiration: "You could read _to_ me, could you not? What is that book you have over there?"

"It is al-Kindi's book about cryptography, but I will not read it to you."

"Why not?"

"It will get you thinking about the problems of translation again, which clearly agitates your mind - something you need to avoid for the time being."

Unwilling to be thwarted, Childermass cast about for another idea. "Then pick a different book. Any book. Something interesting but not 'agitating,' if you think I am so fragile. You could - ah! I have it! Tell me about Merlin."

"What about Merlin?"

"How you came to own him - how he learned to say your name - how you can let him fly about the garden, robbing people at will - "

Segundus was laughing. "All right, fine. There is certainly plenty to be said." He pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat down. Childermass closed his eyes (his head really did feel better that way) and let the sound of the other man's light, precise voice wash over him.

"Some years ago - not long after my first encounter with Vinculus - I was living in London. I joined a group of magicians, not unlike the Society in York. One of the more romantic members took it into his head that having a pet raven would be a charming homage to the Raven King. I do not know where he acquired Merlin - he simply showed up to a meeting one week with this enormous black bird in a cage designed for a canary.

"Halfway through the meeting, Merlin somehow got his door open. He couldn't fly properly, but he terrorized us quite effectively all the same. He hopped and flapped about, shredding papers, pulling wigs off heads, barking like a dog, yowling like a cat, and swearing like a sailor. This brought the meeting to a swift conclusion. Everyone bolted, excepting only myself, Merlin, and the man who'd brought him.

" 'For G--'s sake, open a window and let the devil out!' he shouted from his hiding-place under the table.

" 'But sir, the animal is unable to fly,' I pointed out. 'Surely that would be signing his death-warrant!'

" 'Better it than me!' he retorted.

"I tried another tactic. 'Consider what a discourteous thing it would be to the Raven King, were you to cast out one of the birds which he chose as his emblem.'

" 'Very well!' he cried, crawling towards the door on his hands and knees. 'If you are so concerned about offending His Majesty, you can look after the creature yourself, and welcome to it!'

"And he made his escape, leaving me in possession of the room - and Merlin."

"Did he come with the name?" asked Childermass, delighted by this unexpectedly dramatic beginning to the story.

"No, that was me. It was easier to have something specific to call him as I shouted at him to stop doing things. 'Merlin' was the first name that occurred to me."

"How did you get him back into the cage?"

"I waited until he was engrossed in devouring a steak that one of the members had left unfinished on his plate. Then I flung my coat over him, wrapped him up, and got him back behind bars. How he screeched! I fear our first meeting did not leave a favorable impression on either of us. But I could not bear to leave him behind, in all likelihood to be destroyed, so I took him back to my lodgings."

"That must have caused a fuss."

"Rather. I tried to keep him a secret at first, but he is not a quiet bird, so that did not last long. Fortunately my landlord was eager enough to retain my patronage that he allowed me to stay on, provided I moved up to the attic. That is where I began the arduous task of gaining his trust."

"How did you manage that?"

"It took a lot of rats."

"Rats?"

"Well, rats, mice, any thing of that sort. I am afraid my reputation as a respectable person was severely damaged by my new hobby of collecting dead vermin out of London's gutters."

Childermass couldn't help smiling at the image. "Your dedication is commendable."

"Dedication, stubbornness - call it what you like, it is the only thing that got us through those first two weeks. It was very clear that I could not keep him in that tiny cage, and I couldn't possibly afford a larger one, so I let him loose in my room. Lord, what a mess he made...it was a good thing I had so few possessions for him to destroy.

"Eventually we reached the point where he would take food directly from my hand - not a procedure to be undertaken lightly," he added. "I still have the scars."

"I believe it," said Childermass.

"Anyway - between the noise, the droppings, and the bones, my landlord reached the end of his patience. I can't say that I blame him. I had been planning to leave the city in any case, so when he complained I departed, taking Merlin with me."

"And still you never considered simply releasing him?"

"Oh, I considered it, but never seriously. I had grown fond of him and could not face the thought of him meeting an ignoble death at the hands - claws, rather - of some predator. We moved from place to place until we came to rest in York, where the good Mrs Pleasance proved most forgiving when it came to strange sounds and unusual meals. It was there that Merlin regained the power of full flight."

"I didn't think he seemed at all handicapped when I met him in the garden. How did it happen?"

"My theory is that he had had his wing feathers clipped at some point - like they do to parrots. It never occurred to me to keep them trimmed, so when they grew back (he had been with me for over a year) he was able to fly again. I found this out one afternoon in December, when I came back from some errands to find the window open - he has always been good at latches - and Merlin gone.

"I went straight back outside and spent some hours hunting up and down the nearby streets, but he was nowhere to be found. It was growing dark by then, so I returned to my room, fearing that I would never see him again. I did not give up hope altogether, however, and I left some food on my windowsill on the chance that it might lure him back."

"Dead rats?"

"No, he'll eat any thing, really - I put out some scraps from the kitchen."

"He returned, I take it?"

"Indeed he did. Not long afterwards, I heard a scrabbling on the sill, so I opened the window and there he was. He hopped inside and then flew to the top of the wardrobe, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"Things grew much easier after that. I would let him out every morning and he would spend the day flying about, finding his own food Lord-knows-where, and come back to roost at night. He was much less destructive once he had an outlet for his energy, and Mrs Pleasance and I were pleased at the decrease in general mess.

"When we moved to Starecross I kept him inside for a while, just to make sure he recognized that this was our new home. He is highly intelligent, so he adjusted quickly, and we have continued our arrangement ever since. He is the terror of the garden, of course, and keeps the small mammal population down to almost nothing. The staff are not thrilled about him - he is a dreadful tease and loves to break into the house and take things when he is bored - but they put up with him for my sake."

"So you've had him for over ten years now? That's impressive," said Childermass through a yawn. "I beg your pardon - I might be able to sleep soon after all."

"Apparently ravens can live for decades in captivity - so it's a good thing we've gotten accustomed to each other. Now," said Segundus briskly, getting up, "you should rest. I've rattled on for long enough."

"But you didn't tell me how he learned to say 'John'," said Childermass, stifling another yawn.

"Oh - that," said Segundus, sounding embarrassed. "Near the beginning of our acquaintance, I was reading aloud to him - something I still do, as it entertains him and allows me to pursue my studies at the same time - when I realized he was learning to say some of the more often-repeated words. So on an especially dull winter evening I taught him to say my Christian name. It had been a long time, you see, since anyone had called me by it, and...well."

Childermass, caught off guard by this melancholy little admission, could think of nothing to say. Segundus smoothed over the moment by going on: "He learned it, all right, but I'm fairly sure he thinks it means 'food.' "

"No bad thing, since that's probably what he loves best in the world," said Childermass. This earned him a smile. ( _G-- help me, the man has **dimples.**_ )

"True! So - now that you have been bored into a stupor by the history of how I became a bird's personal slave, I will leave you. If you have no more headach or nausea in the morning you should be able to go about your business as usual - as long as you promise to stay out of trees."

Childermass promised, and Segundus left the room, chuckling.

 _When I set out to cheer him, I did not mean to do so by becoming another half-crazy invalid for him to look after,_ thought Childermass. _But it appears to be working. Now if only Mrs Lennox will write back promptly..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr Robinson is the attorney employed by Mr Norrell at the beginning of the book.
> 
> Yusuf al-Kindi was an Arab polymath born in 801 AD.
> 
> I drew inspiration for Vinculus's prediction from JS&MN-the-book, where John Uskglass draws symbols on Childermass's eyelids, lips, heart, and the palm of his left hand. 
> 
> Next up: the results of Childermass's letter-writing spree become apparent. Also, the "vino" of the title will finally come into play!
> 
> Comments are much appreciated. Like you have no idea how much. Unless you too write fics, in which case you know exactly what I mean. ;)


	4. In Which He Tells Some Lies and Learns Some Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childermass tries to read the Book, tries to find out where Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell went, and tries to learn the answer to the age-old question: "Yes, but does he LIKE like me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter snowballed into a 12K-word MONSTER, but people just wouldn't stop _talking._

Childermass rose up gradually through layers of sleep. He hovered just below full wakefulness, his mind presenting him with conclusions it had reached while he slept, one after the other.

_It's barely dawn._

_My head doesn't hurt anymore._

_I am hungry._

_My King has returned. If indeed he ever left. He has called me to serve him and I will not refuse._

Then he fell asleep again.

The next thing he knew, the sun was fully risen and the breakfast gong was sounding. He could not remember, now, what it was he had been thinking about when he first woke, but a feeling of quiet acceptance lingered. Also, he was ravenous.

Dressing did not take long, as all he had to do was put on his shoes. He ran a hand over his chin and decided he had another day left before it crossed the line from "badly shaven" to "bearded." He briefly regretted that Segundus had not even tried to get him into a nightshirt, but then decided that, if he was ever undressed by the man, he would prefer to be totally functional at the time.

Segundus and Vinculus were already in the dining room when he arrived. Vinculus laughed at him for being robbed and beaten by a bird, and Segundus quizzed him on the quality of his sleep and the condition of his head. Childermass merely smiled and helped himself to coffee, rolls, blackberry jam, and grilled kidneys.

He felt extremely well. The idea of working on the Book filled him with excitement rather than dread. The thing he had felt as a looming, threatening presence the day before had overtaken him in the night, but instead of grinding him to powder beneath its weight, it surrounded him and bore him up.

_Like a huge wave that can knock you over and drown you if you resist it, but which will carry you with it if you plunge in..._

He came out of his ruminations with a start, realizing that Segundus was waiting politely for him to respond to a question he had not heard.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," said Childermass.

"I said, what are your plans for the day, sir? You seem quite recovered. Will you be going back to the library?"

"Yes, I was planning on it. Do you know what became of my notes?"

"I put them in the top drawer of the large reading desk."

"Thank you. Vinculus, I'm not going to need you for a while, so if you want to wander off and work in the garden or what have you, that'll be fine - just stay near enough so I can give a shout when I need you, all right?"

"I always do," said Vinculus - then, catching Childermass's eye, he added: "Ever since last week, anyway."

"I have some things to attend to in my study, but when I am done I would like to look in and see how things are going, if you don't mind," said Segundus.

"Keeping an eye on me, eh?" said Childermass, grinning, and Segundus smiled back. _Dimples. Oh yes. There they are._

"Partially - I do feel responsible for your mishap, as it was my bird who caused it - but I am also keenly interested in the work, and I hope I can continue to contribute, even if our approach must now be altered."

"It seems presumptuous to welcome you in your own house, but yes, I will be glad of your company."

***

In truth, Childermass was pleased to have some time to himself as he retrieved his notes and settled into a chair to look them over. He was not sure what - if any thing - was going to happen when he set himself to studying the Letters this time, but he preferred to be unobserved as he took his first steps.

He took a deep breath, spread out the paper he had been writing on the day before when he had left the room so precipitously, and tried to read it.

As soon as he focused on the symbols, he had the unpleasant sensation that the top of his head had been lifted off and that someone was pouring ice-cold water into it. Except that it was not water, but knowledge. He shuddered as the meanings of the swirling ciphers arrived in his brain, bypassing the usual pathways of learning and going straight to _I know_. It was not precisely painful, but it was so outside the natural way of things that his whole being revolted against it. He persevered, trying to recapture the feelings of peace with which he had begun the day, trying to ride the waves.

The trouble with waves was that they kept coming whether you were ready for them or not. His mental muscles, unused to being invaded and controuled by someone else, could not stand it for long. Soon he had gone from receiving information to being assaulted by it. The waves were too big. He was going under...

Segundus burst into the room, looking around wildly. "Mr Childermass! What are you doing? Are you all right?"

Childermass realized that he was hunched over his notes, sweating and shaking, his left hand gripping the quill so tightly that it bit into the flesh of his fingers. He straightened up slowly, feeling as though he had just avoided...he did not know what. "I - was going over my notes," he said. "Something has happened to me - something happens when I look at the Letters. It was all right at first, but then - I started to - what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I thought you were sinking into dark water," said Segundus. "I'm sorry, that does not make any sense - but that is the picture that came into my mind, quite suddenly and powerfully, and I thought I had better find you. Were you working magic?"

Childermass raised his eyebrows, trying to regain his equilibrium in spite of his racing pulse and trembling hands. "No. But someone was."

"The Raven King?"

"I don't know if he was doing it directly, or if it is a spell that has been set in motion since Vinculus spoke to me so strangely," said Childermass, looking down at what he had written. _...the magic of England will remain cloven in two unless the branches are..._ "Dark water, hm? That is an apt description. At first I could stay afloat, but then it began to pull me down."

"Nothing worth doing can be mastered all in a moment," said Segundus, sitting down across from him. "Perhaps you should only do it for short periods of time until you have acclimated to - er - whatever it is."

"Perhaps." Childermass rubbed his eyes. "One would think that being given knowledge without having to go to the trouble of acquiring it would be easy. Not the case, as it turns out." He lowered his hands to look at Segundus. "You say you felt something as well?"

"Nothing like as strongly as you did, but I knew there was magic going on nearby. I seemed to see you slipping deeper and deeper into a black lake. Rather alarming."

"Maybe I shouldn't be here," said Childermass. "I should take Vinculus and find another place to stay while we do this."

Segundus knitted his brows. "Why? Is the atmosphere of the house having a detrimental effect?"

"Not at all. I am more worried that the atmosphere of me doing this - or of having this done to me, whichever is closer to the truth - will have a detrimental effect on _you_. You have only just begun to recover from the damage inflicted by living with Lady Pole's enchantment, and then I bring this in - "

"Oh! Do not worry about me," said Segundus, his face clearing. "I am not as frail as all that, sir. And this magic is nothing like that which trapped Lady Pole. That was a _wide_ spell, if you follow me - it radiated from a woman so powerfully ensorcelled that it warped reality around her. What is happening to you is...personal. Localized. And it has stopt for now, correct? I cannot feel it anymore."

Childermass was so glad that his impulsive offer to depart had not been accepted that he did not answer immediately. _What would you have done if he had said Yes? What if you had to choose?_ said his inner commentator. _I do not have to,_ he replied. _And I plan to keep it that way._ Out loud, he said: "I don't know if 'stopt' is the right word. 'Receded' is more like it. It's still there. Waiting."

"I do not think you should work on the Book in solitude - at least not until you are better able to withstand the process. If you like, I will be happy to stay nearby. I am not sure what I can do to assist you should you start - er - "

"Drowning?" suggested Childermass.

" - yes, drowning, all right - but I will do whatever I can."

"Your sudden appearance was enough to snap me out of it just now," said Childermass. "I think nothing more than a sharp kick in the shin is required."

"I can certainly supply that," said Segundus, smiling.

"Did you finish your business in your study already?" inquired Childermass, trying to direct the conversation away from himself before he lost his head completely ( _That's the second time he's smiled at me today! And it's not even eleven o'clock!_ ).

"I was drafting a letter to Mrs Lennox, if you must know," said Segundus. "And no, I did not finish it. I have been putting it off for some days now. I feel that I am caught in a brief period of peace before my life is turned upside-down once more, and I am reluctant to bring it to a close."

"What do you plan to say to her?"

"That my occupation is gone; that I have no right to remain in residence here without a new one; that, while I welcome her input as to what I should do next, she is under no obligation to help me; and that if she wishes to sell Starecross (as was her original plan) I will be content to move on."

"And will you be content?"

Segundus's composure cracked briefly. "Of course not. I have been happier in this place than I have ever been. For the first time in my life I have had purpose, and a real chance to be useful. Leaving would - " He swallowed and shook his head. "No. I will not be content to move on. But I hope that in time I shall be."

"Don't be downhearted, sir," said Childermass. "I do not forsee you having to move on from here unless you wish to."

"Forsee? Are you a prophet like Vinculus now, as well as the Reader?"

"Not a prophet, but I do know what I am talking about in this case."

"Does this have any thing to do with those cards Merlin took from you? I meant to ask you about them, but it slipped my mind."

"Aye, it does, a bit."

"Do you really see the future in them?" Segundus sounded partly doubtful, partly intrigued.

"Sometimes. I can often see the present as well, which is just as useful."

"And you have read the cards about Starecross Hall?"

"I have."

"What did you see?"

"That you should wait a few days before you send any letters."

"Is that all?"

"All that is pertinent at the moment."

"I do not know whether to take you seriously about this or not, sir," said Segundus, narrowing his eyes. "But since your advice is in line with my own wishes, I will wait. But only till the end of the week."

"Very good," said Childermass, getting up and going over to the windows. "Now, where's Vinculus? I'd like to see whether the jarring effects of the magic are lessened if I read from the original script."

They spent the rest of that day trying to determine exactly how long Childermass could endure the Raven King's version of tutelage in linguistics. By the time Mrs Pleasance came in with afternoon tea on a tray, he was able to last for five minutes at a stretch before Segundus had to "bring him back," and he had covered half a dozen sheets of paper with left-handedly scribbled translations.

"Ah, thank you, Mrs Pleasance! Most kind. Just set it down on the desk wherever there's a space...the next issue will be putting all this in its correct order," said Segundus, leafing through the pages. "The sentences make sense, but taken together, it's a bit jumbled."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Childermass, gratefully accepting a cup of tea from the housekeeper.

"I hope you gentlemen aren't working yourselves too hard," Mrs Pleasance said, passing cups to Segundus and Vinculus as well. "You're looking a bit peaky, Mr Childermass, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Thank you, ma'am, but I'm fine," said Childermass. "I think I'm about done for today, though."

"You're doing well for a beginner," said Vinculus. "First time I heard the King speak I puked all over the pub - oh, beg pardon, ma'am." Mrs Pleasance gave him a look that could have etched glass and departed.

"Are you sure it wasn't due to some other, pub-related reason?" said Childermass.

"With my iron constitution?" scoffed Vinculus. "Not bloody likely."

The following day went even better. The sheer _strangeness_ of the experience did not diminish, but knowing what to expect made it less of a jolt each time. Though he would never have admitted it to him, Childermass found that Vinculus's advice to "quiet his mind" and "listen to his King" was helpful. Thinking of the inundating knowledge as a voice, to be absorbed and not manipulated or controuled, made his experience less overwhelming.

The third time Segundus called a halt - around midday - Childermass got out his cards, wanting to do something that came easily to him. _Let's see what Norrell and Strange are up to_.   _Haven't looked in on them for a bit._

He dealt, read the cards, frowned, and dealt them again.

"What is it, sir? You seem troubled," said Segundus, distracted from his perusal of Childermass's latest sheet of translations.

"Probably sees something he doesn't like for dinner," theorized Vinculus, lounging on the sopha they had had brought in to aid in the reading of his legs.

Childermass hardly heard either of them. "Is there a silver basin and water in here?"

"There's a pitcher of drinking water," said Segundus, pointing to the desk. "There are no silver basins, but if you take the wax fruit out of that glass bowl it might serve."

Childermass did as he suggested and filled the bowl with water, then did the magic for seeing visions. After staring into the water and shifting the focus a few times, he changed it to the four-quarters spell. He made an interrogatory sound. "Mr Segundus, come take a look at this," he said.

"For whom are you searching?" said Segundus, obediently getting up and moving to his side.

"Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. Look - earth, heaven, hell, Faerie - and that spot of light is supposedly them, but - "

"My word!" said Segundus, bending closer to the bowl. "It is in Faerie - but it is not! See how it flickers on and off, like a firefly! Is that usual?"

"No, it is not."

"You don't think they have - well - died, do you?"

"I don't think so. But when I looked for them in the visions, not only were they missing, but the Pillar was gone as well - taking Hurtfew Abbey with it."

"What! The entire building?"

"And a sizable portion of the surrounding property." Childermass put his hand into the water and stirred it about, dispersing the spell. "I must go to Hurtfew myself and see what has happened."

"When?"

"The sooner the better. Do you mind if I leave Vinculus here? I shall travel faster without a passenger."

"I do not think he will be any trouble. Will you, sir?" Segundus raised his voice to include Vinculus in the final part of his sentence.

"Not a particle," said Vinculus, composing himself for a nap.

"Shall I call for Andrew to see that Brewer is saddled?" said Segundus.

"No need; I have only to fetch my coat and hat and I'll take care of it myself. My head has had so much magic strolling through it over the past day and a half that I hardly know myself.  A straightforward task like riding to Hurtfew and back will be good for me."

"I hope it shall be," said Segundus. "Straightforward, I mean. You will exercise caution, will you not, sir? It would be a pity if you were to vanish as well."

"Don't worry, Mr Segundus," said Childermass, tucking Segundus's concern into his memory to be gloated over later. "I will be back tomorrow, God willing - the day after at the latest. After all, I have left my book in your keeping."

***

It was a good day for a ride - overcast but not rainy, cool but not cold, with a softness in the air that had not been there a week ago.  Childermass galloped Brewer along the better stretches of road and let him chuse his own pace for the rest, not resting but not hurrying. He was making for Applecroft Farm, the largest on Hurtfew lands. Peter Albright, the farmer, had been steward and landlord of Norrell's property and tenants during his years in London, and could be relied on to know everything worth knowing about what happened to the abbey.

Childermass knocked at the farmhouse door around four o'clock and was surprized when it was opened by none other than Lucas.

"Lucas! What are you doing here?"

"I could say the same to you, sir!" said Lucas, beaming. "I'm staying here for the present, until all this business is sorted out - Peter's my cousin, you know. You look quite well, sir! That horrid cut on your face has all but disappeared! Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"The Hall at Starecross. It's a long story. I've come to see what's happened to Mr Norrell."

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it? All I know is that the Darkness has gone, and the house with it! The old bridge went too, and some say that part of the River Hurt isn't there as should be, but I don't know about that."

"When did this happen?"

"We first found out this morning. A shepherd operating in the area noticed it first, and came to tell my cousin - vanished overnight, seemingly!"

"And no one has gone in for a better look?"

"No, sir, that we haven't - we're afraid of getting pulled into Other Lands. It's confusing these days, with the fairy roads reopened and suchlike. You're not going to go, are you?"

"That I am," said Childermass, remounting. "I'll be back by dark to tell what I've learned, if anything."

"And if you don't come back?"

"Then you'll know to continue staying away," said Childermass. He touched the brim of his hat and rode on.

He found Lucas's report to be accurate - the abbey was gone, as was the surrounding park, the classical bridge, and a section of the river. (This last was a most peculiar sight. The water simply stopt in a rocky pool and, some fifty yards later, carried on again, with no trace of river bed between the two points.) He rode slowly along the road until he came to the area where he thought the abbey used to stand, and suddenly found himself riding slowly in the other direction. He tried this several more times, with the same result, and came to the conclusion that the road now ended in some sort of magical cul-de-sac. Not seeing that there was any thing more for him to do, he headed back to Applecroft Farm.

Peter Albright - along with his wife and many children - made him welcome and gladly put him and Brewer up for the night. Childermass sat in the drawing room with Albright and Lucas long after the rest of the family was in bed, discussing what should happen to the Hurtfew lands now that their owner had gone away - perhaps for good.

"You have done an admirable job of running things while Mr Norrell was in London, Albright," said Childermass. "As I see it, you can do no better than to carry on the same as before. The land is still in his name, and you are still looking after it on his behalf. Should he return, he will find things much as he left them."

"What if he should not return?" asked Lucas.

"That is a question of magical law. I will be looking into it, you may be sure. Contact me or Mr Robinson in York if anyone gives you trouble."

"Sounds good to me, Mr Childermass," said Albright. "Thank you for coming by - though I must say I'm not sure why you did. Our Lucas here said that Mr Norrell sent you away at the end."

"Did he say that?" said Childermass, with a glance at Lucas, who turned red. "Well, it's true enough. But I find that after half a lifetime of looking after Mr Norrell's interests, I cannot shake the habit."

"God bless you for it, sir," said Albright, raising his mug. "A toast, then - to men who don't know when to quit!"

"I'll drink to that," said Childermass.

***

The sun was low on the horizon as Childermass led Brewer across the temporary plank bridge that crossed the Starecross beck. He had spent the day riding from house to house across Hurtfew, telling people to remain calm and carry on with their lives as before. He found Norrell's servants scattered about, staying with friends and relations, and told them that they could stay or go at their discretion, as their master was gone, possibly for good. Peter Albright had invited him to stay another night at Applecroft Farm, but Childermass had declined with thanks.

 _Home,_ he thought as he approached the Hall, its diamond-paned windows flashing in the honey-colored light of the sunset. _When did this become home? I've been here less than a fortnight, but I don't think I've every been happier to arrive somewhere._

With an affectionate pat to Brewer's muscled shoulder, he handed the reins to the stable boy who came out to meet him and then headed into the house, eager for a wash and some food. _And he will be pleased to see me..._

His heart leapt when he nearly bumped into someone in the entrance hall, but then his sun-dazzled eyes adjusted and recognized the someone as Charles.

"Hello, Mr Childermass!" said Charles. "I didn't know you'd arrived! As soon as you've gotten settled, the master would like to see you. He's in his study."

"All right," said Childermass. "I'll be there shortly."

Ten minutes later, having splashed water on his face and brushed the worst of the grime of travel from his clothes, he was knocking on the study door.

"Come," called Segundus. Childermass went in.

He was greeted by a cry of "Avast, you scum!" from Merlin, who was strutting about among the papers on the desk. The window was partially open, admitting a breeze that was a bit too fresh for comfort.

"Hush, Merlin," said Segundus. "Try to keep a civil tongue in your beak. I'm sorry for the temperature in here, Mr Childermass. Merlin can't decide whether he wants to be inside or outside right now, and I grew tired of opening and shutting the window."

"I see that," said Childermass, taking a seat.

The raven half-flew, half-hopped up to Segundus's head. Segundus should have looked ridiculous with the immense bird perched there, but in actuality it was rather intimidating. _He's wearing a tall and self-aware crown that might at any moment take it into its feathery head to fly at me and stab out my eyes,_ thought Childermass.

"Oh dear - sorry about this," said Segundus, trying to coax Merlin off his head by ostentatiously pulling a couple of biscuits from his coat pocket and placing them on the windowsill behind him. "Go on, you great lump, you know you want them - "

Merlin said "John!" and jumped down upon the biscuits in a flurry of wings.

"Now, out!" said Segundus, gently shooing Merlin until he flew away into the darkening garden, biscuits clamped firmly in his beak.  Segundus shut and latched the window. "There. That should keep him happy for a while. It's impossible to have a serious talk with him in the room."

"Is that what we're having? A serious talk?"

"That was the idea." Segundus fixed Childermass with a look that was not exactly hostile, but certainly not the welcoming smile he had been hoping for. It was wary - as though Segundus was seeing him for the first time and was not sure what to make of him. "Some letters arrived while you were away, Mr Childermass. I think I now understand what you were hinting at when you told me to wait before writing."

"Ah." Childermass watched Segundus's hands - broader then might be expected for a man of so slight a build, bony fingers criss-crossed with fine silvery scars, souvenirs of earning a raven's trust - fidgeting with a small pile of correspondence. "Go on, then."

"This one is from Mrs Lennox," said Segundus, holding up the first letter. "She tells me that she has learned of Lady Pole's recovery - from you - and that she will support me in whatever direction I choose to take Starecross next, although her preference is to give the school for magicians another try. She also says that she has received two extremely generous and unsolicited donations, given for the sole purpose of founding this hypothetical school. One of the donors is none other than Lady Pole."

"Indeed?"

"There is no need to feign amazement," said Segundus, lifting the second letter. "Lady Pole also wrote to me. She says that it is thanks to a letter from you that she has chosen to show her gratitude in this pecuniary way. Tell me, sir, what exactly was going through your mind when you decided to go begging in my name, without so much as a word to me about it?"

"I was not _begging,_ " said Childermass, stung. "I was trying to help you! You were so very low after Lady Pole's departure - I thought it would ease your burden were I to - to - "

"To take it upon yourself to attempt to restart the school, without even ascertaining if that was what I wanted?"

Childermass struggled to get his thoughts in order. This was not how he had pictured this conversation going. "I did not think there was any question about it. You are so plainly suited to teach magic - I cannot conceive of any career that would give you more enduring satisfaction."

Segundus _harrumphed._ "That is beside the point. What I want to know is why you believed you had a right to do this at all. You are essentially a stranger to me, sir. You have been a guest in my house, but I know nothing of your plans, your motivations. You tell me that Norrell is gone, that you have no connexion with him now, but how can I know this for a fact? What if this is all some Machiavellian scheme the two of you have concocted to wrest this dream from me yet again?"

Childermass sighed. "You are working yourself into a lather, and all for naught. May I try to explain?"

Segundus crossed his arms. "By all means. You have my full attention."

"My motives were good, John Segundus. You must remember that I am accustomed to dealing with Mr Norrell. He would tell me what he wanted done and leave the details to me - and that is how I have acted here. On the night Vinculus and I arrived, you told me of your hopes and fears about what was to come. At the time you were too taken up with caring for Lady Pole to do any thing such as write to Mrs Lennox; after Lady Pole left you were too depressed to do so; then the whole business of translating the Book caught your attention. Throughout all this you made no move to secure the future of the school - or yourself. It seemed a simple enough matter for me to do it for you. It has nothing to do with Mr Norrell. He and Mr Strange have gone from this world, possibly forever."

"And Lady Pole? Why did you ask her for money?"

"I didn't - not in so many words. I reminded her of her promise to help you, told her of your worries, and recommended that she communicate with Mrs Lennox. She then took matters into her own hands."

"Yes, but _why?_ I am not your employer and I have no desire to be. I have no claim on you, nor you on me. What made you do this? Was it merely a wish to preserve the _status quo_ , so that you and Vinculus would not lose a convenient haven? What do you want from me?"

 _Oh, why did he have to phrase it like that? I want nothing **from** him - I want everything **of** him._ Childermass cleared his throat, trying to decide what ratio of truth to not-quite-truth would be best. "You're absolutely right. I was wrong to act without consulting you. But when you say that Starecross has been a haven to me, you are only partially correct. It has been much more than that. In the short time I have been here, you have shewn me nothing but kindness and respect. I have never before been treated as a - a colleague. I found it a heady experience. If I have demonstrated my gratitude in devious and underhanded ways, I can only plead that such is my nature and my training, and ask for your forgiveness."

Segundus's stance relaxed slightly. "You are a strange man, Mr Childermass. But you have set my mind at ease - about Lady Pole and Mrs Lennox, at any rate. There is still the matter of the second donation."

"What about it?" said Childermass, with a sudden sinking of the heart. _I swear to G--, if Robinson blabbed, I'll burn his offices to the ground._

"It was anonymous, but it came through an attorney, Mr Robinson - none other than the man Mr Norrell sent when he shut down the Learned Society York of Magicians. In the light of what you have told me about Mr Norrell's current absence from this plane, I cannot help but wonder if you have something to do with it. This donation arrived at the same time as Lady Pole's, on the heels of your correspondence campaign, via a lawyer with whom you are well acquainted...it is altogether too much of a coincidence, sir. You said yourself that you tend toward the devious."

"What exactly are you getting at?"

"I want you to assure me that - well - that you have not somehow found a way to siphon Mr Norrell's funds into causes that strike you as worthy."

Childermass burst out laughing. "You're more of a criminal mastermind than I am, sir - the thought never occurred to me! Though it is an excellent idea. No, do not look so flustered - the donation is completely legitimate. And, yes, I did have something to do with it, but that's all I'm saying on the subject."

"I will take your word for it, Mr Childermass." Segundus exhaled deeply, then smiled. "For you were right as well - there is nothing I would like so much as to teach magic. Because of your interfering ways, that might happen sooner than I'd dared hope. I thank you - though I do request that you refrain from taking any similar action in the future."

"Agreed."

"Now the question is, what are you going to do next?"

"Me?"

"You have yet to say a word about your own plans. You have been at some pains to restore the school, and it looks like you may have succeeded. Do you mean to continue on here?"

Childermass shrugged, not wanting to disturb their accord by saying _I'll go where you go until one of us is dead, and even then I expect to find a way to stay nearby_.

"Because," continued Segundus, "let us be honest - between what's on Vinculus's skin and what's in your head, the two of you represent the greatest concentration of John Uskglass's magic in England, and I am far too selfish to let you go wandering away. You say you have felt like a colleague here, but the truth is you are far my superior. You have spent more time with Mr Norrell than anyone else alive. You have learned from him and from his books whether he meant you to or not. The only other person who can claim that honor is trapped in the Darkness with him. On top that, you are the Reader. Should the school indeed be reformed, would you consider staying here and doing some teaching yourself? For I do not mind telling you that I feel woefully unprepared for taking this on by myself. Everything has changed."

"What do you mean?" said Childermass, buying time to digest the unprecedented direction the conversation had taken yet again. He had come in expecting a pleasant "welcome back" and found himself getting a (totally justifiable) telling-off instead. Now Segundus was calling him his superior?  Asking him to stay? _I thought I'd have to worm my way in. He's inviting me in through the front door!_

"Consider: magic has returned to England. It is no longer the exclusive property of exceptionally talented people like Mr Norrell and Mr Strange. My expertise, such as it is, lies in the history and theory of magic. What makes me qualified to teach now, when what people want and need is instruction in practical magic?"

"You've done practical magic," said Childermass. "You restored Lady Pole. That was not something just anyone could have done."

"That was only a single instance. I need to learn before I can teach, and you are the only person I can think of who can help me."

"But I have no desire to instruct young lordlings," said Childermass. "Nor do I think they would take to well to being lectured by me, no matter what my qualifications."

"We shall see about that. I think that people will have to accept that the hierarchy of magical society must of necessity be different than that of the rest of the world. But I am not suggesting that you teach any lordlings - not yet, anyway. I want you to teach _me_."

"That I could do," allowed Childermass in a slightly strangled voice. _Teach you? Oh G--. The things I would like to teach you...shut up, shut up, he's asking for your help, could you stop being filthy for a moment -_

"Let us shake on it, then!" said Segundus, reaching across the desk. "We can work out details later.  I am sure you want to have some refreshment after your journey. It would have been more courteous of me to wait until later to have had this discussion with you, but I wanted to get it sorted as soon as possible."

"Understandably," said Childermass, shaking the proffered hand.

"Off you go, then. I'll see you at dinner. In the meantime I have some letters of my own to write."

Childermass took his leave, wanting nothing more than to be alone for a while, the better to process that extraordinary meeting. He was therefore irritated when he met Vinculus in the passage outside Segundus's study. "What are you doing here, Vinculus?"

"Such suspicion! I was trying to find you - wanted to let you know that I went a whole day and a half on my own without disappearing. Aren't you proud?"

"More than I can say. You were listening at the keyhole, weren't you?"

"Of course I was, Professor. How else am I meant to find out what's going on around here? No one tells me any thing."

"I can't imagine why not. Other than spying on your betters, how have you kept yourself busy?"

"Mostly in the garden," said Vinculus. "We've been pruning the roses. Nasty things," he added, exhibiting a scratched-up forearm as evidence.

"I've got to know - what's behind this sudden passion for honest toil? Has Harry got a sister or daughter I should be warning to stay away from you?"

Vinculus sniffed. "Is it so hard to believe that I simply enjoy working in the dirt? Creating order from chaos? Making use of my hands for something other than mischief?"

"Yes, it is."

"I'll not stay here and be insulted any longer, Professor!" said Vinculus, flouncing off.

"Stop calling me that!" Childermass shouted after him.

"Yes, your lordship!" Vinculus shouted back.

Childermass rolled his eyes, went to his room, and lay facedown on his bed till the dinner gong sounded.

***

Segundus's letters were to Mrs Lennox and to Mr Honeyfoot, informing them of his desire to re-open the School for Magicians.

Mrs Lennox responded with another, far longer letter full of instructions and advice.

Mr Honeyfoot found words inadequate to express his ecstasy, so he came to Starecross Hall in person, trailing goodwill and enthusiasm like the tail of a comet.

Childermass knew that the long, intense days devoted entirely to translating the Book - Segundus beside him, quiet and alert, ready to draw him back from the brink if the magic pulled him down too deeply - could not go on forever. Nor did he expect them to, not really - had he not gone to considerable pains to invite the bustle, life, and noise of a functioning school into the cool stone heart of Starecross Hall? Nonetheless, he resented the thought of Honeyfoot's coming, and steeled himself to hide his dislike of the man.

Somewhat to his chagrin, Honeyfoot proved impossible to dislike - chiefly because he liked Childermass (now that he had cancelled out the grievous sin of closing down the first incarnation of the school by helping Segundus start it up again). When he learned that Childermass was the Reader of the King's Book, his admiration was profound indeed. It was not the fawning, ignorant flattery seen in Drawlight, nor the half-mocking, self-serving attentions of Lascelles. Honeyfoot's regard was artless and genuine, and Childermass's defenses melted before it like ice in the summer sun. As for Vinculus, Honeyfoot's attitude toward him bordered on reverent, which of course pleased the old man very much.

"It's a good thing that Vinculus is already impossibly conceited, or I'd be worried that he'd get a swelled head," muttered Childermass to Segundus at dinner. On the other side of the table Honeyfoot was listening raptly as Vinculus pontificated about the trials of a prophet's life.

"Yes, Honeyfoot is inclined to a bit of hero-worship," said Segundus. "He'd do the same to you if you'd let him."

Childermass snorted.

A few days later, Childermass was in the library, shewing Segundus how to perform Stokesey's Vitrification on a handful of stones from the river. Honeyfoot came into the room and pretended that he was looking for a book to read, pretended to find one, and pretended to sit down and read it. Childermass, amused by this transparent ploy, paused in his lesson to say: "Mr Honeyfoot, would you like to come closer and see how this is done?"

Honeyfoot reddened and said: "I would like nothing better, sir - but I am constrained by the agreement I signed with your master, as you may recall."

"And as _you_ may recall, Mr Norrell is neither my master nor on Earth any longer. I believe it is fair to say that your agreement with him no longer applies."

Honeyfoot's joy at this had him exclaiming "I say! Wonderful! I say!" and shaking hands with Childermass for the better part of a minute. Then he levitated the cat, turned his left shoe into butter, and made a painting of a robin sing. It took combined efforts of all three men to get things back to their original state. Afterward they were standing in the middle of the room, panting a little (the cat had been reluctant to come down from the ceiling), when a thought struck Honeyfoot.

"My good sirs! This applies to to all the other former members of the Learned Society of York Magicians! They are free to be magicians once more! We must inform them at once!"

"Must we?" said Childermass, who retained no very positive impression of that august body of gentlemen.

"It's only fair," said Segundus.

Which is how it came about that, in the second week of March, a notice appeared in the _York Chronicle,_ inviting all members, past and prospective, of the Learned Society to meet at the Old Starre Inn on the following Wednesday.  Honeyfoot asked, "But will it not be considered offensive, Mr Childermass, to summon them in this preemptory fashion? And doing so publicly, in a way that means anyone who is interested can see and respond - they will be much put out, if I am not mistaken!"

"What a shame," said Childermass, in a tone that so plainly meant the exact opposite that not even Honeyfoot could miss it.

The meeting went as well as could be expected, with the old Society members and the new acolytes of English Magic at each other's throats throughout. About half of those present could not see past their indignation at Childermass taking charge. These departed soon after he introduced Vinculus as the King's Book, saying that if this was what magic was coming to, they had no interest in pursuing it further. The other half was fascinated enough to let his claim to be Reader stand - for the present, at least - and Childermass even obliged them by showing them the more comprehensible lines of what he had translated so far.

Having successfully thrown all magically-minded people in the vicinity into an uproar, Childermass, Segundus, and Vinculus returned to Starecross. Honeyfoot remained in York for a few days to spend time with his family, and also to sound out some potential students, before rejoining them.

Spring had now definitely arrived, and new energy flowed into every living thing, whether it be plant, animal, or human. Vinculus (when not being read) and Harry spent every daylight hour in the garden, getting things pruned and mulched and fertilized and trying to keep Merlin from flying off with the hand tools.

Mrs Lennox had advised waiting to open the school until August, giving Segundus four and a half months to create a revised curriculum. She also urged him find some reliable fellow-magicians to help him teach. He wrote to Henry Purfois, William Hadley-Bright, and Tom Levy, the three young men whom Jonathan Strange had been tutoring, to see if they would be interested.

The rapidity with with their replies arrived - all bearing variations on _I accept your kind offer, how soon can we start?_ \- suggested that the young men had found themselves at a bit of a loose end in recent times, and were eager to find new purpose. They arrived at the beginning of April.

This put an end to the peaceful, scholarly atmosphere that had already been disturbed by the advent of Honeyfoot. Childermass did not have time to lament over the accelerated pace of life at Starecross, however, as he somehow found himself sharing the role of overseer with Segundus. Strange's students were inclined to be suspicious of him at first - the villainous Mr Norrell's right-hand man! But, like Honeyfoot, they were too good-natured to bear a grudge for long, especially considering that Childermass and Vinculus's presence gave their newly-adopted home the distinction of hosting the most magical Book in all England. Childermass also, at Segundus's request, took to recording on paper everything he could remember having read in Mr Norrell's precious and eternally unreachable library.

"Not that I didn't appreciate the speech you made when you introduced Vinculus at the Old Starre Inn," said Segundus, "but I don't quite agree that have no further need of magical libraries. And you are the last person on earth to have had a look at the inside of Mr Norrell's books."

"So I'm to spend half my time translating the King's Letters, and the other half transcribing spells and histories from my own memory?" grumbled Childermass. "My fingers shall become quills and my blood will turn to ink before long!"

"No, indeed; you need only spend a third of your time on the Letters and your recollections. You may spend another third helping me and the young gentlemen learn how to work the spells, and the final third is for sleeping and eating."

"You are a cruel taskmaster. I pity your future students." In spite of his complaints, Childermass found his new routine quite enjoyable. Reading the Letters came so naturally to him now that he no longer needed the security of Segundus standing watch, but the habit of working together in the library all morning was by now well-established, and they saw no reason to alter it. Segundus was thinking of writing a biography of Jonathan Strange, and was organizing their correspondence on top of his preparations for the school.

Hadley-Bright, Purfois, and Levy were not as widely read as Segundus, and their youthful impetuosity had been exacerbated by Strange's style of teaching, but Childermass found them intelligent and willing to accept his instruction. By the end of June, they had reached a level of competence that made Segundus say that, apart from their sad lack of books, he felt confident that they would be able to provide their incoming students with a useful magical education.

"All is not lost," said Childermass, when Segundus brought up the subject one morning. "As Norrell's chief book-hunter, I know the names and addresses of all those who refused to sell. They might be more amenable to letting you buy them."

"I didn't know any one could withstand the combined forces of you and Mr Norrell," said Segundus, a little peevishly.

"Hard to imagine, I know, but it did happen now and again. I will consult my cards and see if any are still available. It's probable that there are some texts to be had on the Continent. And with the current level of interest in magic, some publishers are re-issuing books that have been out of print for a long time. We shall do well enough if we are willing to put some effort into the search."

Purfois and Hadley-Bright were selected as the best candidates for persuading people to sell their books to the school, as they were both handsome, personable, and well-born. This kept them busy "racing about on horses at impossible speeds," as Purfois put it, for most of July. Their efforts were rewarded by eleven books about magic and one book of magic - this last purchased for a great sum from an ancient Catholic priest in southern France. Segundus, Levy, and Honeyfoot spent the bulk of their time at the Hall, writing and rewriting lesson plans and timetables, and selecting students from the large list of hopeful magicians.

Childermass and Vinculus were in great demand from members of the magical community who wanted to see the alleged Book and Reader for themselves, and did a fair bit of traveling of their own. Childermass had resisted the temptation to peer into Segundus's private life via cards or basin when he was staying at Starecross, but when he was on the road, he couldn't help taking a look now and then. He knew that Vinculus could not interpret the cards, so he did not bother to hide that method, but he was careful to call up visions of the headmaster only when he was alone.

On one such occasion he happened to catch Segundus bathing. Childermass watched for about thirty seconds before his conscience smote him and he dispersed the spell, shaken to the core.

Living at Starecross, helping prepare for the opening of the school, growing fluent in the Letters, doing magic openly, the constant fascination of being within arm's reach of John Segundus...for the past few months he had been able to cheat himself into thinking he was satisfied with things as they were. It was so very nearly the life he wanted. But one brief glimpse of water running down pale skin and dark hair brought the whole brittle edifice crumbling to the ground.

_It must stop. This half-life cannot continue. Either I tell him I love him and face the consequences, or I put all thoughts of it aside and become his friend and nothing more. But calling myself his friend while sneaking looks at him by magic is...contemptible._

For the duration of his journey with Vinculus - another seven days of explaining the story of the Book to skeptical or overawed magicians in pubs and drawing rooms - he could think of nothing else. It was one thing to say _I will tell him_ ; it quite another to find a way to do it. If Segundus had ever given him the slightest indication that he thought of him as more than a comrade in magic, Childermass would have felt more confident, but as it was - did he dare risk the friendship that had grown between them? What if he told him, and Segundus was horrified - repulsed? The thought was not to be borne. Should he stay silent, then? Spend the rest of his life living and working beside Segundus, never speaking his heart? It was preferable to being sent away in disgrace. But what if there was a chance - ?

His thoughts chased each other in endless circles during his waking hours, and his dreams gnawed at him by night. Usually they featured a Segundus that looked at him with hatred and revulsion, but sometimes (and this was much worse) they shewed him a Segundus that smiled, reached out, and lifted its face to his own. Childermass consulted the cards about what he should do, again and again, but they always returned the same answer: _crossroad approaching._  A decision to be made, an action to be taken, but the result? Unknown.

***

Oddly enough, it was Vinculus who helped him find the solution to his dilemma. They had been back at Starecross no more than twenty-four hours when Vinculus created a minor domestic scandal by proposing marriage to Mrs Pleasance. She was not as appalled as she would have been five months before, having had time to adjust to his particular brand of charm, but she still refused him. Vinculus received her answer cheerfully enough and then retreated to the garden.

When Childermass learned of this (from a highly amused Tom Levy), he was reading a draft of the King's-Letters-to-English lexicography he was compiling in an attempt to keep himself from worrying over his personal problems. Thinking that someone else's personal problems would be a welcome distraction, he left the draft for Levy to study and went looking for the Book.

He found him in the garden shed, a small wood-and-stone building that was being slowly devoured by a wisteria. Childermass had never gone inside it before, and it took him a few moments to find the door behind the riot of leaves, iron-hard vines, and fragrant purple spills of blossom. As soon as he had done so and persuaded it to open, he was greeted by an altogether different fragrance.

"G-- almightly, it smells like a still in here!" he exclaimed, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse the fumes.

" 'S not a still," said Vinculus, sitting on the dirty flagstone floor with his back to one of half a dozen wooden barrels. " 'S storage. Harry keeps the cider in here."

"Apple cider?"

"No, pear. So really it's perry. Harry's Perry! Ha ha!"

"Been sampling the goods, have you?" said Childermass, thinking he had discovered the reason behind Vinculus's devotion to the garden.

"Just checking. Got to make sure it's good." Vinculus held up a mug (empty). "It's good! Safe for human consumption!"

"Does Segundus know about this?"

"Oh, aye. Most of the staff get a few pints of this stuff a day as part of their wage. Harry's in charge of making it. There's a few cider-pear trees at the bottom of the garden, or didn't you notice? What am I saying, of course you didn't. Care for a bit?"

"No thanks," said Childermass, leaving the door open to encourage a bit of air flow. "I came to talk, not drink."

"Drink usually leads to talk," said Vinculus, holding his mug under the nearest spigot and refilling it. "What's on your mind?"

"I want to know what you thought you were doing when you asked Mrs Pleasance to marry you! Are you daft? You do know that, had she accepted you, I would have had to tell her that you're already married? _Five times over?_ "

"You know about that, do you? You are a thorough blighter."

"I thought you'd have figured that out by now."

"Hold on," said Vinculus, closing one eye and pointing at him. "You're the chap little Suzy wanted to run off with, aren't you?"

"Maybe," said Childermass cautiously. "I can't imagine I'm the only fellow she's ever set her cap at, before or since I met her."

Vinculus's cracked laughter rang out in the dusty, alcoholic air. "Aye, she's a corker, she is! I never put two and two together until this minute. She described you as 'handsome,' which is why I didn't twig it was you."

"So kind. In all seriousness, Vinculus - why did you propose to Mrs Pleasance?"

"Why d'you think? I've got all a man could want, living here - barring one thing," said Vinculus, illustrating his statement with a gesture of unspeakable crudity.

"Can't you just take a roll in the hay with some village lass? Preferably blind, deaf, and with no sense of smell?"

"Shame on you, sir! Call me old-fashioned, but I won't bed any woman out of wedlock."

Childermass snorted. "Old-fashioned? Yes, as old-fashioned as Solomon, you polygamous old ass."

"I've got my quirks," agreed Vinculus equably, and lowered the level of perry in his mug by another inch.

"The real mystery is how you got any of them to marry you in the first place," said Childermass, sitting on an upturned crate.

"Why so curious? Looking for tips?"

"Hardly. This is a purely academic enquiry."

"I'm a great husband! I send 'em money when I can, I don't bother them, they don't bother me, and it works out just fine."

"Until they find out that they're not alone in your affections. Isn't there something about 'forsaking all others' when you wed?"

"I forsake all others to whom I'm not married - isn't that good enough?"

"If it works for you and yours, well and good. It just boggles my mind a bit, that's all."

"Of course _you'd_ have trouble with the idea," said Vinculus. "I mean, look at you and our Mr Segundus - you've been forsaking all others since you first clapped eyes on the fellow."

Childermass sat perfectly still. Fear rushed over him, leaving him cold despite the heat of the July afternoon. "What," he said carefully, "are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, was it meant to be a secret?" said Vinculus with a great shew of innocence. "The way you've been carrying on, I thought - "

"Explain yourself. Now."

"Pardon me, I'm sure," said Vinculus, contriving to sound miffed, though his eyes danced with devilment. "Here I thought we were having a nice friendly talk about our different approaches to life and love - all right," he added hastily, seeing danger in Childermass's face. "It's not obvious to any one who hasn't been your shadow for the past half year, but as I've had that privilege, it stands out a mile. Having him all but hold your hand while you read the Letters, working day and night to teach him everything you know about magic, tracking down books - oh, and don't forget giving him most of your money to get this school going again."

" _What?!_ How did you - what are you - "

Vinculus chuckled and took another drink, clearly enjoying the sight of Childermass reduced to sputtering, incoherent rage. "I'd be properly ashamed of myself if I couldn't do something as simple as get ahold of a letter I wanted to read. That note you wrote to Mr Robinson back in February - the one you were so anxious to keep away from me? I pinched it from your coat while you were asleep, then sealed it up again and put it back when I was done. You mustn't have spent a farthing of what Mr Norrell paid you all those years to have that much saved up - and then to go giving so much of it away! Without even getting credit for it! What's your arrangement with Robinson, anyway? Does he communicate with the bank for you? Makes your deposits and investments and so on?"

Childermass took a moment to absorb the extent to which Vinculus had poked his hooked nose into his affairs. _He's known about this for how long now? Plays his cards close to the chest, this one._ "Yes," he said. "I make bankers nervous. Robinson has the opposite effect. I knew him as Norrell's attorney, so I engaged him to be my financial go-between. As for what I chuse to do with my money, that is none of your concern."

"Of course not. I'm just meddlesome. At first I thought it might be some kind of underhanded bid for controul of this backwater heap, but you didn't capitalize on it - you just kept your mouth shut and - "

"If you're thinking of trying a spot of blackmail, forget it. I can blackmail you right back, and a good deal more effectively, since I've got actual proof of your activities."

"Not a bit of it! My only concern is your welfare," said Vinculus, grinning like a skull.

"What do you mean by my 'welfare'?"

"I mean that if I have to spend any more time trapped in the library while you make big sad cow eyes at the headmaster when he's not looking, I am going to do you an injury! You fancy the man, so do something about it! Something more than secretly funding his school and following him around like a hungry dog."

"Keep your voice down, would you?" Childermass was silent for a while, weighing the risk against the relief of talking about this with someone other than himself. "I don't understand what you think to gain from this. Why should you help me when my trouble stems from a proclivity that most find unnatural and abominable?"

"I've spent my life among abominable people and done a fair few abominable things myself. Bit of an expert, I am. Trust me when I tell you that the most abominable thing about this whole business is the way your face goes all soft when you're thinking about him. It gives me a pain in the liver."

"That might be the perry," said Childermass, still suspicious but somehow cheered by Vinculus's _blasé_ outlook.

"This stuff? No, it's veritable nectar of life! What I hope to gain from this is a clear-headed Reader. I don't know what's come over you lately, but you've gotten all...blurry. Your mind is not on your work and I think I can hazard a guess as to where it is instead. Get it out of your system, man!"

" 'It' being...?"

"Either stop mooning about and bugger him senseless, or find someone else willing to do the deed!"

"That is not what this is about," said Childermass. "Well," he amended, while Vinculus scoffed, "not entirely. I'm not fifteen, for G--'s sake. I'm not at the mercy of my - stop laughing! I don't just want to bed him - I love him. How can I tell him such a thing? You seem to have noticed a great deal during our time together. Have you ever noticed him give the slightest indication that he thinks of me as any thing but a friend?"

Vinculus scratched his chin. "Hard to say. He doesn't let on what he's thinking, for all his kindly ways. He doesn't seek out female companionship, and he likes you well enough, but beyond that..."

"You see the problem," said Childermass, staring dismally at his shoes. "How can I find out without the possibility of making him loathe me?"

"What you need is a way to learn if he'd ever consider you as a - y'know - _prospect_ \- without outright asking him. A way that would give you both the option of retreating with honor..." Vinculus finished his drink. "Ah! That's good, that is. Are you sure you won't try it? Might give you a fresh perspective - " He broke off, looking from his empty mug to Childermass and back again. An expression of dawning enlightenment spread across his features. "Childermass! I've got it!"

"What?" said Childermass warily.

For answer, Vinculus sang:

 _Drink, drink, then, and hold it a maxim divine_  
_That there's virtue in truth, and there's truth in good wine!_

"Don't you remember that song?" he said, when Childermass continued to look blank. "They were singing it at the party in the kitchen when we got here! It's called _In Vino Veritas_ \- Latin for - "

" - 'in wine, truth.' Yes, I've heard the saying before. Are you suggesting that I get him drunk? Because if so - "

"No no no. Too unpredictable. He's not a heavy drinker - if you souse him up he might pass out, and that's not what we're going for. What you need to do is _pretend_ to get drunk yourself."

"I don't follow you."

"Try! This idea is golden. I've used it a fair few times myself and it's a great way to find out what someone really thinks of you! What you do is act like you've had more to drink than what's good for you, and you start playing the part of the overly-candid drunk - you know the type, right?"

"Oh yes."

"This means you can say what you like, and you get to see how Segundus reacts. If he's put off by it, he'll attribute it to the sauce, and you act like you don't remember a thing about it in the morning. If it's something he wants to hear, you'll see it, since why should he hide it if you're tipsy? At the very least it'll help him realize that you're amenable, and you can build on it later. Good, isn't it?"

"I hate to say it," said Childermass, after considering the plan for a while, "but it's plausible."

"When will you try it out? Tonight at dinner?"

"No - but soon."

"Don't wait too long or you'll lose your nerve."

"Never fear. I'll get it done."

"Excellent! _Now_ will you have some perry?"

"No thanks. I've got to get back to the house. Don't get too comfortable out here - I'd like to take another look at your left foot later on."

"Yes, your lordship," said Vinculus.

***

Childermass put the plan into effect a week later, the day before the students were to arrive. Segundus, Honeyfoot, Hadley-Bright, Levy, Purfois, Vinculus and himself were gathered for dinner in a celebratory mood. An elaborate welcome-to-school banquet was being prepared for the following night, but the cook still made sure to provide them with plenty of less extravagant fare. Most importantly (from Childermass's point of view), the wine was flowing. Everyone made a great number of toasts - to the school, to the students, to their patroness and backers, to the revival of English Magic, and to each other - so by the time dessert and coffee were served, the climate in the room was extremely convivial.

Childermass, taking care not to swallow more than a tiny sip at each toast, observed how his companions altered when under the influence. Hadley-Bright grew more expansive and happy with every glass. Tom Levy played practical jokes, magical and otherwise, with varying degrees of success. Honeyfoot discoursed on plans for the school's future with perfect optimism, while Purfois nodded owlishly and said "Absolutely, sir, absolutely!" at every full stop. Vinculus, who was always half drunk if he could help it, had changed not a whit and was in fact filling his coffee cup with gin.

Segundus, the object of his closest scrutiny, said less and less the more he drank (which, admittedly, was not much). His ears grew red, but other than that, he shewed no signs of intoxication. Childermass, who had taken care to sit across from him, made his opening salvo.

"You are very serious tonight, Mr Segundus," he said. "Are you worried about the students getting here tomorrow?"

"No, sir, I am not worried - not exactly. It is only that I can't help remembering the last time I _almost_ started the school. At the time I couldn't shake the feeling that it would never happen, and, well - it never did."

"Are you having that feeling now?"

"I don't know. I don't _think_ I am, but the memory of the previous attempt is so strong that it is tainting the present." He shook his head, then smiled. "At least this time I know that if I see you riding up to the Hall I have nothing to fear."

"That is true. Who could have predicted it?" Childermass studied Segundus's face, wishing he could erase the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth. "Come, sir, all will be well. More wine?"

"No, thank you. I have had quite enough for one evening, particularly before a day as important as tomorrow."

Fearing that Segundus would retire for the evening before he could conduct his experiment, Childermass discreetly kicked Vinculus in the ankle. Vinculus responded to his signal by saying loudly: "Anyone for a game of billiards?"

The billiard-room had been created after much lobbying by the three young gentlemen, who were adamant that it would a valuable source of harmless amusement. Segundus had taken some convincing, but they had won him over eventually, and a handsome billiard table had been installed in the room with the conflict-themed art on the the walls. Vinculus, while not that adept a player himself, found much enjoyment in watching the game (i. e. heckling the participants and making bets with everyone).

Levy stopt trying to reheat his coffee by magic (so far he had only managed to turn it bright blue) and said that it was a capital idea. Hadley-Bright and Purfois agreed, and Honeyfoot said he would not mind playing the winner of the first match. With a general scraping of chairs and groaning of over-full diners, all but Childermass and Segundus got up.

"Won't you be joining us, gentlemen?" said Honeyfoot. Segundus, who had clearly not been paying attention to what was going on around him, said:

"What? Oh - I'm afraid not. An early night for me, I think."

"Mr Childermass?"

"Maybe later. I wanted to talk to the headmaster about something."

"Did you?" said Segundus, as Honeyfoot followed the others out of the room. "I beg your pardon. I have imbibed rather more than I usually do tonight, and it has made me introspective."

Childermass finished the wine in his glass in one gulp. Although he did not feel remotely inebriated, he thought he had better start playing the part. "You are a problem, Mr Segundus."

"A problem? In what way, sir?"

"You worry me. I worry. There are a lot of right bastards in the world, and you - " (he reached across the table and poked Segundus in the chest) " - are - " (he poked him again) " - not - " (poke) " - a - " (poke) " - right - " (poke) " - bastard."

Segundus leaned back slightly. "I see. And that's...bad?"

"Terrible!" said Childermass, letting his accent thicken and his diction deteriorate. "You are far too good a person to be wandering around on your own. 's not safe. Something could _happen._ Someone might take _advantage._ What you need is a right bastard of your own to look after you."

Segundus didn't laugh, but from the way one corner of his mouth curled upwards, it was a near thing. "What do you recommend? Shall I place an advertisement in the _York Chronicle_? 'Wanted: a Right Bastard to Look After - ' How shall I describe myself?"

Childermass reviewed a few adjectives (rejecting "gorgeous" and "perfect" as too much, too soon) and said: "Unworldly? Mind on higher things and all that. But don' worry. You don' need to worry. I" (here he placed his hand on is own chest) "will be your Right Bastard. I'll look after you. If any other bastards try to pull one over on you, I'll get rid of 'em like that!" He snapt his fingers, making sure not to get it until the second try.

"That's a very kind offer." Segundus was definitely amused. Pleased with his results so far, Childermass waved a hand airily.

"Psshaw. Least I can do. You've been a refuge in a time o' trouble an' that's a fact. Didn' think I'd ever enjoy working _with_ someone, after so long working _for_ someone, but there y' go. You're clever, and not annoying. I like you very much."

"Thank you, sir. It has been an unexpected honor to be permitted to collaborate with you in your great work. To actually contribute to English Magic after years of picking up crumbs..."

"Aye. Thwarted at every turn, eh? My fault, some of that. I should have - I don' know. Done something."

"I don't know where you're getting this misplaced sense of culpability, sir, but let me assure you, you owe me nothing."

"Y' can't deny that I had a hand in most of your troubles," insisted Childermass. "I worked for Norrell - snatched up every book of magic in England for him - shut down the York Society - shut down your school - "

"You were doing what you felt you had to do for the restoration of English Magic. And now that it has been restored, you have helped me a great deal. No, Mr Childermass, I am afraid you are stuck with my good opinion of you. I have trusted you almost from the first, though I cannot exactly say why."

"Try," suggested Childermass, shamelessly fishing for compliments.

"I don't know if I can explain this properly," said Segundus, sighing. "Some time ago, not long after that business in the York cathedral, I began to feel as though I was being watched."

This was unexpected - and not a little disturbing. "Spied on, you mean?"

"No, not like that...I'm not putting this well at all. Not _watched_ so much as - well - _watched over._ It was not a constant feeling, but it returned regularly, and it was always a great comfort when it did...like an assurance that, no matter what my outward circumstances, I was not forgotten. Somebody knew about me and cared about me. It sounds fanciful, I know," he said with a laugh, misreading Childermass's frozen stare. "I often speculated as to its origin - but I never came to a satisfactory conclusion. In my more saccharine moments I thought that perhaps - "

Childermass felt his innards squirm. "Perhaps what?"

"Perhaps the Raven King was turning his thoughts to one of his floundering subjects," said Segundus, and laughed again, self-consciously. "Ridiculous, I know."

Childermass laughed, too, out of relief. "I've heard of stranger things. But what has this to do with me, sir?"

"Ah - well - " Segunudus was reddening now. "Believe it or not, the sensation returns when you are present. I have wondered if it is because you are the Reader - you have a connexion to John Uskglass...I do not know. But there it is."

Childermass poured himself another glass of wine to hide the turmoil within him. _He felt you! He knew you were watching him!_

_Not watching. Watching over. There's a difference. Even he could tell._

_He must be very sensitive to magic indeed, then. Are you going to tell him it was you?_

_Yes. Just not now._

_You'd better finish this up. You're losing controul of the situation._

"All most pelu - peclu - peculiar," he said out loud, and yawned. "Forgive me. I'm...going to rest my eyes for a bit..." He put his head down on the table, pillowing it on his arms. "Jus' a little nap." With his face obscured by both his arms and the dark fall of his hair, he was able to keep one eye open enough to gauge Segundus's response. This was where he was hoping to get the real answer to his questions. Would Segundus be disgusted? Call for Charles to come and help drunken Mr Childermass to his room? Or would he simply roll his eyes and leave him?

Segundus did none of these things. He simply sat there, sipping his coffee now and again, watching the (supposedly) dozing form of Childermass. His face was impassive but his eyes were sad.

This went on for so long, that, despite his desperate interest in the outcome, Childermass nearly fell asleep in actuality. Then, setting his cup down in its saucer with a click, Segundus rose to his feet.

 _He's leaving. He didn't do any thing. He doesn't -_ Childermass's despairing thoughts were disrupted when he realized that, instead of taking the shortest route to the door, Segundus had circled to his side of the table and was standing directly behind him.

_He's so close. I can feel the warmth of him. What's he playing at? And why does he always smell so d----- good?_

And then he felt Segundus's hand on his hair.

It was the most tentative touch imaginable - a mere suggestion of contact, sliding from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck - but it set fire to Childermass's entire nervous system at once. Somehow he maintained the lax slump of an over-irrigated man sleeping in his seat. Segundus spoke softly, so softly that he could hardly hear it over the thunder of his own pulse: "You're a fool, John Segundus."

Then the touch changed and became a firm hand on Childermass's shoulder, giving it a friendly shake.

"Hmm? What? What is it?" said Childermass, sitting up and looking around with a convincing display of confusion.

"You fell asleep, sir. Shall I call Charles to help you to your room?"

"Urgh," said Childermass, rubbing his eyes. "Thank you - no - I can get there on my own, I think. Sorry - rude of me - "

"Don't give it a thought. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight, Mr Childermass," said Segundus, and left the room.

Childermass waited a few moments before making his way to his quarters. His head felt strange and hot ( _How much wine did I actually drink?_ ) but his heart was lighter than it had ever been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the book, it mentions that although Mr Norrell has paid Childermass well for years, no one knows what he does with the money, as he certainly doesn't spend it. I imagine that Childermass, practical man that he is, kept it socked away for a rainy day...but then lost all notion of probity when faced with Sad!Segundus. 
> 
> You may have noticed that this story has sprouted an extra chapter...I was thinking about how annoying it was to have to click back and forth between "Vino" and chapter two of "Loose Ends" to get the final scene. Then I thought, "Hey, why not rewrite that chapter from Childermass's POV and add it as a fifth chapter in 'Vino'?" Then I thought "Nah, too self-indulgent." THEN I thought "...wait. Isn't that the definition of fanfiction?" 
> 
> SO IMMA DO IT. Shouldn't take terribly long.
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](http://nasturtian.tumblr.com), if you care to stop by and say hello!


	5. In Which He Explores the Practical Application of Literature and Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students arrive, term begins, and Childermass and Segundus finally Use Their Words. And, later, their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fluffy. So fluffy. Tooth-rotting. Your dentist recommends brushing well after reading.

There were five young men who came to study at Starecross, ranging in age from seventeen to twenty-four. Some might have thought the one-to-one ratio of students to teachers a bit excessive, but Segundus said that until they had a clearer idea of what they were doing, such a high degree of supervision was a good precaution.

On the first night of term, when everyone was gathered for dinner, Segundus gave a short address to welcome them and lay down the ground rules for life at the School for Magicians. In his quiet voice, he went over the schedule for the first week, mealtimes, and how to deal with Merlin. He finished with a pointed statement indicating that any one treating a teacher or fellow student less than respectfully would find themselves in search of a different institution of learning.

"Though we are from different walks of life, all of us are here because of our love of magic," he concluded. "If you consider a person's ancestry or previous profession more important than that, then this is not the place for you."

Childermass hid a smile as the pupils tried to look as though these revolutionary statements were nothing out of the ordinary. _If I hadn't done so long ago, I'd fall in love with him on the spot._

The next day lessons began. Segundus was so wrapped up in making sure that things went smoothly that he had hardly a moment to spare for any thing else, and seemed a bit distant as a result. Childermass told himself that this was to be expected, kept busy with translating and teaching, and hung on to the memory of _that night_ like a talisman. _It was not your imagination. It was real. Just wait a little longer. A little longer..._

Vinculus was not helpful. When he was not dressing up in red robes and acting the augur for his fresh audience, he was following Childermass around, whispering "So, how did it go?" "Does he or doesn't he?" and "Did you tell him yet?" whenever they were alone. Finally Childermass was compelled to tell him that, firstly, the faux-drunkard scheme had gone as well as could have been hoped; secondly, he did not intend to do any thing further until Starecross was less hectic; and, thirdly, if Vinculus did not stop pestering him about it, he would box his ears.

"What choice do I have but to pester?" said Vinculus. "You'll tell me nothing if I don't, and now that we're not roommates I have less chance of winkling it out of you."

"We were never roommates, we were neighbors, and you never winkled any thing out of me."

"I know, but now I can't even try."

Childermass shook his head and retreated to his new room. The sleeping arrangements had been reorganized when the number of incoming students had been confirmed, with the result that Vinculus and Childermass were no longer in adjoining rooms.

Childermass had long ago stopt worrying that Vinculus would disappear and quite liked his solitary quarters. He often took advantage of the privacy they offered to do a bit of recreational reading - something he had never indulged in until recently. How it came about was this: not long after the start of term, he happened to catch sight of Miss Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_ in the library's non-magical section. Remembering that this was what Segundus had been reading to Lady Pole, he opened the first volume to the first page, expecting to be bored.

Fifteen minutes later, when Purfois and his afternoon history class trooped in, he was still standing there, drawn in by Miss Austen's brisk storytelling and dry humor. Not wanting to be caught with an novel, he tucked it into his coat and took it away to peruse at his leisure.

By the end of August the school was moving through its daily routine with relative ease, and Childermass had read all three volumes of _Pride and Prejudice_ (twice). His favorite character was the misanthropic Mr Bennet, but he had to admit that Mr Darcy made some excellent speeches. He read these repeatedly, thinking that perhaps some of that eloquence would find its way into his own repertoire. More than any thing, he wanted to find the moment to tell Segundus - _things_ \- but at the same time he dreaded the encounter. How to begin? How much to reveal at once? Should he go straight to "I love you" or lead up to it? Should he _touch_ him? This was usually where his imagination got sidetracked, but when it returned to the main point, he was no closer to having a plan.

Then came September, bringing warm days, cool nights, and their first week-long school holiday. Starecross emptied of all the students and most of the teachers, all eager for a break and a change of scene. Only Segundus, Childermass, Vinculus, and Levy remained on the premises.

 _This is it,_ thought Childermass, watching the last carriage roll away over the new bridge that had been built (after a few false starts) by the Earth and Stone Manipulation class. _It won't be this empty around here again until Christmas._

The first thing was to get Vinculus out of the way. It was going to be hard enough without having to deal with a barrage of knowing leers and suggestive winks. Childermass found the old man in the garden, meditatively weeding the tomatoes. "How'd you feel about going into the village this evening, Vinculus?"

"What for?" said Vinculus, not looking up from his work.

"I thought you might enjoy a visit to the pub."

Vinculus snorted. "Pub? I suppose you could call it that. What business do we have there?"

"Not us - just you."

This got his attention. "By myself? D'you mean that? What did I do to earn such a treat?"

"Nothing special. I only thought you might like to have a bit of fun on your own for once. Call it a gift for the holiday."

Vinculus sat back on his heels, brushing dirt from his hands. "How unusually trusting of you, your lordship."

"Are you going to take me up on it or not?"

"Of course I am! I'll be on my way as soon as I've finished this and cleaned myself up a bit."

"Nice to know living here has had such a civilizing effect on you."

"Piss off."

That took care of Vinculus. Childermass went indoors and made a rapid tour of the building. Mrs Pleasance was taking advantage of the low population to do her autumn cleaning, and was busy directing the housemaids and footmen into battle. Tom Levy was in the Green Room, engrossed in the two-way communicating mirror that he and Hadley-Bright had been developing. Segundus was in his study, writing at his desk. He had left the door open, so that Childermass could easily look in as he walked by. It also meant that Segundus saw him pass and hailed him genially.

"Hello, Mr Childermass! It seems we'll have a peaceful week of it. I'm pleased to have the old place to ourselves again, to be honest."

"Me too," said Childermass. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing of import. General correspondence. Can I help you with any thing?"

Childermass considered stepping into the study, closing the door, and saying everything he had been holding in for so long.

Segundus looked into his eyes and smiled.

Losing his nerve completely, Childermass said, "No, I'm just taking a stroll. Till later, then," and walked away.

Disgusted at his own cowardice, he went to the library (one of the few rooms not being turned inside out by Mrs Pleasance and her cleaning crew) and dropt into a chair. Looking about for something to strengthen his resolve, he found the familiar bindings of _Pride and Prejudice_ looking back at him from their place on the shelf. He pulled out the third volume and lost himself in the intricacies of the final act.

He lost himself so thoroughly that time got away from him, and the next thing he knew, John Segundus was peering through the doorway, saying: "Are you in there, Mr Childermass? The cook has prepared a little supper for those of us who remain."

Panicking slightly, Childermass tried deflection. He shut the book with a snap and forced a grin. "I have found you out, Mr Segundus."

Segundus seemed disproportionately concerned by this announcement. "How do you mean, sir?" he said, putting a hand on the doorframe as though to steady himself.

"I would never have guessed you to be a reader of three-volume novels, but the evidence cannot be denied." He held up the book. " _Pride and Prejudice,_ by the author of _Sense and Sensibility_. So well-thumbed! So full of bookmarks!"

Whatever Segundus had been worried that Childermass might say, this was not it. He relaxed and came the rest of the way into the room.  "Those are remnants of Lady Pole's time here. It was one of the ways we had to keep her occupied - Pampisford and I would take it in turns to read aloud to her. Nothing remotely magical would suit, you understand. She favored the strictly realistic novels in which the greatest obstacle to be overcome was the prosaic struggle of how to get through life without being desperately poor or unhappy."

Childermass put the book back in the case with its companion volumes and stood up. "Perhaps not such a prosaic struggle, sir, and one which most of us face. But I can well understand why the gloom of _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ might not have appealed to her. Was _Pride and Prejudice_ more to her liking?"

"As much as any thing ever was while she was under the enchantment. She had me read it to her again after she was freed, so I assume she liked it particularly well." Segundus smiled. "I grew rather fond of it myself, I will admit. Miss Austen has a shrewd wit which I find pleasing."

"She certainly takes joy in skewering the shortcomings of the less intelligent. It is one of my favorite pastimes as well." Childermass nearly laughed out loud, imagining's Miss Austen's delight at seeing two magicians discussing her books. "Now, I believe you mentioned dinner?"

"Ah yes. Nothing out of the ordinary, with almost everyone gone for the holiday, but it will be hot at least. Shall we?"

"After you," said Childermass, always glad for the chance to watch Segundus from behind.

The proceeded to the dining room, where four places had been set for dinner.

"Who else will be joining us?" said Childermass - simply for something to say, as he knew exactly who would be joining them.

"Possibly Mr Levy, but I am not sure - he said something earlier about not wanting to break off in the middle of his experiment - something to do with two-way communication through mirrors..."

"Oh, yes. Jonathan Strange would have approved of his former students' ambitions. No success yet, I take it?"

"Not yet, but he feels they are near a breakthrough. I hope they achieve it soon, as it is beginning to interfere with their tutoring schedule. Ah, thank you, Mrs Pleasance!" The housekeeper had come in with a loaf of her famous bread, still warm from the oven.

"Just the thing to go with stew, Mr Segundus," she said happily, setting it down in front of him. "Will your companion be at table, Mr Childermass?" she added, with less enthusiasm. Childermass shook his head.

"No, Mrs Pleasance, he's gone to the village. I don't expect he'll be back till much later." Mrs Pleasance (whose relationship with Vinculus had been somewhat frosty since his proposal) looked relieved, bobbed a curtsey, and left the room.

"How goes the King's-Letters-to-English lexicon?" Segundus inquired, when they had eaten with silent attention for some minutes.

"It goes," said Childermass. "Slowly but surely. Oh - I have made an appointment with the engravers in London. Hopefully I will be able to let Vinculus go his own way by year's end."

"What do you think of the theory that the Book should remain in its original form? That is to say, on Vinculus and nowhere else? I have heard some people worrying that perhaps the Raven King did not intend the general public to have access to his writings."

"Seems to me that if that was the case, he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of providing a Book at all, let alone a Reader."

When they had finished their stew, bread, and conversation, they removed to the library, where the fire had been built up into a comforting blaze. Charles brought them coffee. Segundus read over some of his old letters from Jonathan Strange and made notes for the biography, at one point muttering "I'm going to have to make it clear that I did _not_ name my raven after him..." Childermass got out his cards but did not read them, preferring to turn the deck over and over in his left hand as he held his coffee cup in his right, staring into the flames all the while.

_The crossroads. You're standing in it. Say something, man!_

His internal wrestling match was mercifully interrupted when Segundus set down his pen and said: "Did I ever thank you, Mr Childermass, for bringing Lady Pole here?"

"Why would you?" said Childermass. "You were nearly undone by living in such close proximity to the enchantment for so long."

"No, not for Lady Pole specifically," said Segundus. "But for keeping your word and remembering me after my initial purpose here was...disrupted. I had assumed you were merely trying to placate me with empty words when you said you would help me if you could. I was never more surprized or - or - moved than when you wrote to ask if I would be Lady Pole's keeper."

These words, and the sincerity with which Segundus said them, made Childermass suddenly bold. _He wants you too, Childermass. Don't forget it. Courage._ "Well," he said, laughing, "as I told you at the time, I am a very fine fellow. Even if I don't look it."

"There is nothing wrong with the way you look. One simply has to get used to the idea that some people appear as though they had just stepped out of the pages of a Gothic romance or a bad play."

The backhanded compliment amused Childermass so much that he could do nothing but continue laughing. "Such flattery!" he managed at last. "I wasn't too sure of you at first either."

"Oh? In what way?"

Childermass felt light-headed, but persevered. "You must remember that the only magician I'd ever spent any time with was Norrell. I believed all magicians to be secretive, arrogant, and deceitful as him...and me. You appeared modest, and gentle, and kind-hearted, so naturally I assumed you were merely better at disguising your true nature than most."

Segundus looked flustered. "Dear me! How alarming! It sounds as though I must be either a villain or a milksop. Which am I?"

"Neither, sir, neither. Years of careful observation and study have convinced me that you are actually as amiable and good as you seemed at first acquaintance. This makes you entirely unique in my experience." He raised his coffee-cup in a half-ironic salute, while his inner commentator screamed at him: _What did you just say?! Don't tell him that! It's too soon! You'll frighten him off!_

Segundus covered his face with one hand. "You make it sound as though I am a laboratory experiment. What am I to believe, that you routinely read your cards about me and took extensive notes?"

 _It's too late now. Might as well tell him everything. Well, most things._ "Actually..."

"Actually what?"

"That is exactly what I did."

Segundus sat up straight and stared at Childermass in astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"

Childermass waved the cards of Marseilles in the air. "I consulted my cards about you at regular intervals and recorded the results. I knew from our first meeting that you had a sensitivity to magic almost equal to my own, and the cards told me that you had some important part to play in the restoration of English magic. I did not wish to draw Norrell's attention to you, so I was obliged to keep an eye on you in my own way." He smiled his sideways smile, sure that every word he spoke pushed Segundus farther from him, but resolved to finish saying it nonetheless, now that he had begun. "Are you offended?"

"Well - I - that is - " Segundus was fairly spluttering by this point. He stood up and strode to and fro across the library, running his hands distractedly through his hair. Finally he halted in front of Childermass's seat and glared down at him. "I cannot pretend that I am pleased by this news, Mr Childermass," he said. "But I will wait to hear more. Were you - _spying_ on me? What on earth could you have learned about me from those confounded cards?"

Childermass met his gaze, hoping that if he spoke casually, his actions would sound less intrusive. "Nothing to cause you any distress. The cards tend towards the absurdly broad or the uselessly specific, depending on the questions one puts to them. I was chiefly interested in your magical activities, and also in your character. I learned that you continued your magical studies as best you could, and that you were almost entirely free of guile and ambition. Nothing I couldn't have discovered by interrogating your landlady, but as I said, I had to be discreet."

"But you said you have carried out this reprehensible program for years! What could possibly have held your attention for that long? I am sure that aside from the incident with Lady Pole's finger I must have had the dreariest, dullest fortune ever told. You must have some deeper purpose, sir, that you have not yet revealed to me. I demand that you tell me your true reasons for this - this - monstrous breach of propriety." Looking angrier than Childermass had ever seen him, Segundus turned away. But this very anger gave Childermass hope. He saw that beneath the entirely understandable outrage at the invasion of his privacy, the thing Segundus hated most was the thought that Childermass's interest in him was mercenary. Childermass got up and approached the headmaster slowly.

"I can only repeat what I told you already," he said. "I had no sinister motive. At first I only wanted to keep track of your actions during a delicate stage of my master's career, but as time went by I found that I was interested in you for your own sake - because I found you interesting. You are the best man I have ever known. I watched you because I could not help myself."

Segundus stared unblinkingly at the wall. Childermass tried to think of something suitably Austen-ish to say. _Sod it,_ he thought, and quoted directly: " _In vain I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how much I admire and love you._ "

Segundus turned around, eyes flickering rapidly over Childermass's face. What he saw made him take a breath and say -

"I've got it! I've got it! Take a look at this!" shouted Tom Levy, dashing into the room and brandishing a shaving mirror.

Segundus stepped quickly forward with exclamations of excitement that were somewhat at odds with his stunned expression. Childermass quelled his desire to throttle Levy, bent over the little mirror for a better view, and said: "Well? I can see Mr Hadley-Bright."

"Yes, but can you not see that he is looking at us?" said Levy. "He knows we are here! He can see us in a mirror of his own!" He gesticulated to the man in the mirror, and Hadley-Bright waved back, saying something that they could not hear but looking every bit as exultant as Levy. "We have made these two mirrors answer to each other! Is that not fine?" He beamed at Childermass and Segundus, then resumed his attempts to communicate with Hadley-Bright.

"Next you had better find a way to get sound to pass through the mirror," observed Segundus, "otherwise it will be more like a long-distance game of Charades."

"Come now, don't be a wet blanket, sir!" said Childermass. "Let him have his moment. This is a new achievement in magic, as far as I know. You are to be congratulated, Mr Levy."

"Thank you! Thank you!" said Levy, executing a few steps of a jig in his jubilation (he was apt to express emotion in this way when words were not enough). "Hadley-Bright!" he said loudly, forming the name wiht exaggerated care so that the other man could read his lips. "Can you read this?" He held up a note and Hadley-Bright squinted at it. Then he shook his head. "Backwards," he mouthed, and Levy nodded vigorously.

"Of course - mirror writing is reversed," he said, and sat down at the nearest writing table to try his hand at writing like Leonardo da Vinci.

Childermass and Segundus left him to his scribbling and returned to their seats by the fire. Neither of them spoke, instead contemplating the soot-smudged hearthrug.

Finally Segundus raised his head. "Mr Childermass," he said, so quietly as to be almost inaudible. Childermass bent towards him, not wanting to miss a word. "You have not respected my privacy. You have said things that could endanger our freedom and possibly our lives. If we were in one of Miss Austen's novels, this is where I would give you an indignant lecture and send you away."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Childermass could not hold back a snort and a caustic comment: "Yes, and then I would be obliged to compose a lengthy letter explaining myself, and we would spend the next few months in mutual agonies until all misunderstandings were corrected."

"Exactly. I am pleased to see you have read the whole book and retained its salient points," said Segundus with a small smile. "For good or ill, sir, I think we both prefer a more direct approach." He glanced at Levy to make sure that they were not overheard; the former dancing-master was engrossed in grimacing and making gestures at the mirror (presumably for the benefit of the magician at the other end). "You say that you have done these things because you...love me?"

"Aye," said Childermass, his throat closing so that his voice came out in a sort of growl. "You have my life in your hands, John Segundus. Do with it what you will."

"Always so dramatic, John Childermass," said Segundus. Childermass's stomach jolted at the sound of his full name. "It must come from being one of Mrs Radcliffe's creations." He leaned forward, closing the distance between them until their foreheads touched for the briefest of moments, before sitting back in his chair. "Do not be afraid. Since we are letting Miss Austen do the talking for us this evening: _I cannot fix the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun._ I love you, too."

Childermass blinked. _Do not be afraid. I love you, too._ The words went rocketing around inside his head like a firework. He smiled - not a smile tinged with irony or sourness, but an involuntary reflection of the amazement and triumph that bloomed within him. "Thank G--," he breathed. "I knew I had to tell you, but I did not know what would come of it."

"Those blasted cards again, I suppose?" said Segundus, lifting his eyes to the heavens, and Childermass nodded. "We are going to have to come to an agreement about them, sir. They give you a distinctly unfair advantage over me."

"Ah, no, I need all the help I can get," rejoined Childermass, recovering his usual manner. "These are dark paths that we are going to tread. I, for one, welcome a bit of extra information."

"In spite of my misgivings about them, I confess that I wonder," said Segundus, hesitating, "do they say what happens? To...us?"

"Let us find out," said Childermass. "Things have altered a bit since the last time I asked them that question." He laid out the cards on the occasional table beside his chair, then turned them over one by one, his hands hardly trembling at all. He pondered the battered cardboard rectangles for a while, then swept them into a stack and tucked them away in their accustomed pocket.

"Well, sir?" said Segundus. "Is this - venture - doomed before it starts?"

"I do not think so," said Childermass. "The cards do not tell the end of any story, for that is always changing." (This was not always true, but he did not think it was the right time for an explanation of the ins and outs of fortune-telling.) "But they say that whatever we do, whatever we are - we shall do it and be it together."

Segundus let out a breath that he had apparently been holding. "Then that is good enough for me."

"And for me."

They regarded each other silently, two men on the wrong side of the prime of life, one with the air of a scholar, the other with an aura of authority that contrasted with his old clothes and weathered face. Then, as though in response to some signal, they both reached out and clasped hands.

Tom Levy gave a crow of delight from the other side of the room. "Ha! I have just shewn Hadley-Bright a note telling him that the weather continues fine here, and he has shewn me one of his own informing me that the fog is heavy in London tonight!" He swiveled in his chair to share his success with the other two. "I say, what sort of bargain are you two striking over there?"

"We are congratulating ourselves upon our excellent taste in literature," said Childermass, releasing Segundus's hand reluctantly. "Are you familiar with the works of Miss Jane Austen? I can recommend them most highly."

Levy, it transpired, was not familiar with said works and had no immediate wish to be. He wandered off, still making faces into the mirror, leaving Segundus and Childermass alone in the library once more. Childermass said: "I keep fearing that this is just another dream, but then I think, if it was, I'd be able to come up with something to say."

"Here's an idea. You could tell me if it was you I've been sensing all this time, watching me."

Childermass squirmed. "Well..."

"It _was_ , wasn't it! Good lord, that's bizarre."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"But rather sweet, in a disquieting way." Segundus took Childermass's hand again. "Like you."

Childermass looked down at Segundus's ink-stained, pen-callused hand in his lined, brown one (sporting a fair amount of ink itself). "Are you angry at me?"

"Maybe later. For now I am enjoying the novelty of staring at you without having to pretend I am doing nothing of the kind. These past months have been terribly fatiguing."

"I know exactly what you mean."

By degrees the awkwardness faded as they slipped back into their usual easy banter. And if they continued holding hands, and smiled and laughed more than was strictly necessary, why, there was no one else there to raise an eyebrow at this outrageous behavior.

When the clock on the mantelpiece struck two in the morning, Segundus gave a tremendous yawn and said: "Goodness, is that really the time? We should get to bed."

"Should we?" said Childermass, dropping his voice to its lowest register. Segundus went bright red.

"I didn't mean - that is to say - "

"Don't distress yourself, sir," said Childermass, grinning. "I am not proposing to follow you to your chamber and have my wicked way with you." _Yet._

Segundus seemed thinking along the same lines. "Not tonight, Mr Ch - John. But at a later date - when we have had a little time to - er - adjust - I would not be opposed."

Before Childermass could respond with any appropriate (or inappropriate) innuendo about _adjusting_ , he too was overtaken by a yawn. "Ah, we're too old to be up this late, you and I," he said. "All right. We'll go to bed - to our own beds - and I will see you in the morning."

They rose, took a candle apiece to light their ways through the dark corridors, and walked to the door. Before they went their separate ways, Childermass seized Segundus's right hand, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to his palm. "Pleasant dreams."

"I think that, tonight of all nights, pleasant dreams are guaranteed," said Segundus faintly.

Childermass's dreams - once he finally dropt off to sleep - proved pleasant indeed.

***

Unfortunately, the morning brought nothing but the discovery that Vinculus had never returned from his jaunt to the pub. Childermass, full of wrath, got out the cards and saw that the old magician was on his way to visit his first wife, Nan Purvis. He had no choice but to go after him.

***

Three weeks, an unplanned trip to London, and an unprecedented amount of poetry later, Childermass was in the garden at Starecross, harvesting herbs. Harry - who had a knack for reading the weather - had forecast that the first killing frost of the season was imminent. The last class of the day being Horticulture, Segundus sent students and teachers alike outside to gather the plants that were most often used in spellwork, so that they could be dried and stored for the winter. They spent an agreeable hour or so out in the sun, filling basket after basket with fragrant armloads of herbs and hardy flowers.

"Don't forget the chamomile, Mr Honeyfoot," called Segundus. "There is a large patch of it not far from you. Just the flower heads, mind you."

"I was not aware that chamomile had any magical significance," said Honeyfoot, doing as he was bid.

"It does not. But Mrs Pleasance is partial to the tea." Segundus was wearing a canvas apron and a straw hat. Childermass found the combination so endearing that he had to stay at least thirty feet away at all times, for fear he would forget himself, pull Segundus behind a tree and kiss him until the hat fell off.

"What have you got there?" said Vinculus, materializing at Childermass's elbow.

"Rosemary and sage," said Childermass shortly.

"Are you still in a snit about my little adventure?"

"I am. More so the longer I think about it. You've lost my trust."

"Come off it! I knew you'd track me down soon enough - I wasn't trying to dodge you. I wanted to see Nan. All that scheming to get you and Himself sorted made me long for the comforts of a willing set of arms. Mrs Pleasance wouldn't be a wife to me, so I had to find someone who already had. I was as good as gold with those Frenchie engravers, wasn't I?"

"I suppose." Childermass deposited his armful into a broad, shallow basket that he was sharing with one of the students.

"So stop snubbing me and let's chat. I'm full of burning curiosity about how the Grand Plan is going. I'm sure that's why you sent me to the pub that day - you wanted to make your move with out me around! Heartless! I wanted to see the fun!"

"Which is exactly why I sent you away. And then you had to go and hop on the first mail coach heading for London. One night I had with him, and we - "

"Oho! So you _did_ have a night!"

" - and we did no more than talk, is what I was going to say. Then I had to go chasing after your sorry hide."

"My hide is not sorry," said Vinculus, slapping himself on the chest. "It's what makes me a priceless mystical object."

"You know what I mean. Thanks to you I had to ride off into the blue for a fortnight, when all I wanted was to be here."

"Well, you don't seem to have suffered for it overmuch," said Vinculus. "You missed a nice stand of sage back there, by the way."

"Such a help, you are. What d'you mean, I haven't suffered?"

"I mean that you've both been unnaturally contented since we got back. It's frightening. Just take a look at Himself over there, staring at that rose bush like a lovestruck maid."

Childermass's urge to snarl at Vinculus was tempered by the equal and opposite urge to smile at the sight of Segundus tenderly examining a late-blooming rose. He compromised by grunting noncommittally.

"Go on," wheedled Vinculus. "You can tell your old uncle Vinculus. Don't forget that I'm probably the only person alive who not only knows what you're about, but is actually _happy_ for you."

Childermass absorbed this rather depressing truth, sighed, and said, "Fine. Yes, all is well between us. Better than well. And I do thank you for your part in it. Now can you please go away, or at least stop talking about it? You do know we don't want this to be public knowledge?"

"I'm as silent as the grave," Vinculus assured him, and ambled off whistling "English Country Garden."

Not long afterward, Segundus said that he thought they had gathered enough to last them till spring. The students and teachers delivered their baskets of herbage to the kitchen and then gathered in the dining room for afternoon tea.

"Where's Mr Segundus?" said Mrs Pleasance, as she set a platter of muffins on the table.

Hadley-Bright dropt a slice of lemon into his cup and said: "I am not sure, ma'am. He was with us at the kitchen, but then I lost track of him."

"He's probably gotten distracted by a book," said Mrs Pleasance fondly. "I'll go fetch him. He shouldn't miss his tea."

"Let me, Mrs Pleasance," said Childermass. "You've got more than enough to do."

"Why, thank you, Mr Childermass, that's most kind of you."

"Not at all." He left the room quickly, careful not to meet Vinculus's merry eyes.

He found Segundus back in the garden. He had removed the apron and hat and was sitting on a stump, watching Merlin savaging windfall pears at the foot of a tree.

"Are you coming in for tea?" said Childermass. "Mrs Pleasance is fussing at the idea of you not having any."

"Bless the woman," said Segundus. "It's a good thing we have so many people here now; she's wasted on a small household. I'll be in shortly, but it is so bright and lovely out here...I couldn't stay away. Winter will be here before we know it, which makes these last warm days so precious."

"Is something on your mind? Besides the turn of the seasons, I mean. Vinculus noticed you getting sidetracked by that rose bush over there earlier."

"Mm, yes. I was considering how roses used to remind me of Lady Pole and Stephen Black, but now they call to mind more recent events. Far more enjoyable ones."

"Most enjoyable," said Childermass. They shared a smile at the thought of the activities they had engaged in two nights before, during which they had produced a number of noises that would have been difficult to explain away, had Childermass not cast a muffling spell on Segundus's bedroom.

"Vinculus notices a great deal, it seems," said Segundus.

"That he does, the old busybody. It was right over there in that shed where he told me he'd noticed I was pining after you...and I'd thought I was doing a grand job of keeping it secret."

"You kept it secret from me well enough - or maybe I was so engrossed in my own heartache that I couldn't see yours."

"That must have been it. According to him I was absurdly transparent."

"Speaking of which - should you have come out here to find me? I thought we were going to maintain a professional distance from one another when out and about. For safety's sake."

"I _am_ maintaining a professional distance. Please note how I'm not dragging you over to the aforementioned shed or any thing."

"Oh? What were you planning to do after that?"

"I'm afraid you'll never know. We're both far too professional."

"Speak for yourself," said Segundus, getting up and starting to walk away.

"The house is in the other direction," called Childermass.

"I'm not going to the house. I'm going to the garden shed," said Segundus over his shoulder.

Childermass gaped for a moment and then went after him, trying not to run.

***

"Well, Mr Childermass? Did you find him?" said Honeyfoot, when Childermass returned to the dining room.

"Yes, eventually," said Childermass, sitting down and pouring himself some tea. "He was in the garden, feeding Merlin. He said he will be in soon."

"That bird terrifies me," said Purfois. "Did I tell you about the time he stole my pocket-watch right out of my hand?"

The topic of Merlin and his peccadillos inspired a lively conversation, which was still going on when Segundus came in. He unobtrusively took a seat and joined in the laughter at Hadley-Bright's account of the battle Merlin and the scullery cat once had over a pilfered chicken leg.

Childermass sipped his tea, admiring the headmaster's unruffled appearance. There was nothing to indicate that, less than a quarter of an hour before, the two of them had been sprawled against the cider barrels in a tangle of limbs, hands sliding under each other's clothing, mouths on each other's - well - everything. Afterwards, while Childermass carefully brushed all the dust and cobwebs from Segundus's coat and breeches, Segundus had run a smoothing hand over Childermass's hair and quoted from Ovid's _Amores_ : " _Jove send me more such afternoons as this._ "

Childermass had teased him about becoming a poet rather than a magician ("The two are not mutually exclusive," Segundus had replied imperturbably). In the intervening minutes, however, the words had taken root in Childermass's imagination. A long line of golden days, smelling of herbs and pear cider, extended into the future until they were out of sight of his mind's eye. _From your mouth to Jove's ears, John Segundus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the beefed-up, Childermass-POV version of "Loose Ends" Chapter Two...now I need to go back and tweak _that_ a bit so they match. *rolls eyes at own perfectionist tendencies*
> 
> I remember when I first thought of this story and I was like "Aw, that'll make a cute one-shot." *30,000 words later* "Boy, that escalated quickly." 
> 
> Thank you all so much for every hit, kudo (kudos? what is the singular of kudos? IDK), and comment! This is such a great fandom and I love being a part of it.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://nasturtian.tumblr.com) if you want to stop by and say hello!


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